Going Back

This morning it occurred to me that in my former life I was supposed to spend this entire month in Italy. In other words I should be drinking fresh blood orange juice for breakfast, taking long hikes up the crete siennese past the ferocious sheep dogs, eating Marcella's incredible hand rolled pasta and watching the sun set over the Tuscan hills while enjoying a glass or two of prosecco.

Instead I am here in Philadelphia. But at least I am now ensconced in my new digs where I can still watch the sun set, albeit over West Philly, with a glass of prosecco in hand. I really miss being in Italy and I will go back. I just know it will be a different experience on my own, not worse, not better, just different.

Next week I am heading up to Maine. It won't be my first time alone in the house. I went back right after Steve died but somehow coming up by myself at the start of the summer feels like a new and different experience. I think I am doing all the right things to make my return a good one. The house will be filled with people who I love and who love me. I plan to play tennis, go for a run on the road and, yes, at sunset sit on the dock with a glass of prosecco and watch the sun disappear into the lake.