IT’S WHAT YOU TAKE WITH YOU

So as my time here comes to an end, my mind is full of “what next-isms.” I keep thinking about the things I have gotten used to, and all the new shit on the horizon, and all the things that are old, that will feel new- and that which I have attained here- and how much I will bring with me.

First there are the little things- a full set of kitchen knives, choices of plates, more than two mugs… A bigger shower! Being able to control the temperature of water in said shower… wow- a BATH. Wow. And no vespa! My parents house. I have to buy a car. FUCK. I don’t want a car. No way out of that I’m afraid.

Then it’s things like going back to the land where complex carbohydrates are the enemy, and everyone is image obsessed. (Imagine the last 9 months I haven’t heard ANYONE talk about their diet… amazing- so so life altering, I can’t tell you).

And what of TV, and movies anytime I want? And the language… to be back where all communication is possible.

And time. What of all this free time- where will it go? Gobbled up in vacuous LA- land of too many people not enough time?

But life without phone cards, and a real stereo, and my brother and Damaris… And a proper mattress- AND A CHANGE OF SHEETS!!!! Oh wow. So many little things.

But I’ve so gotten used to this paired down lifestyle. Do I really need all that nonsense? No. And yes.

Perhaps I have endured with one set of sheets for 9 months because I always knew, that in a box on the other side of the world, I have more. And maybe I have forgone shaving my legs in the shower for the better part of a year- because one day I will sit upstairs in my parents enormous house looking at a chandelier while sitting in a hot foamy bubble bath… I can be this simple- because complexities are just a plane trip away.

I suppose I won’t know anything until I arrive and it all unfolds. But as I lie in bed- and listen to the sound of Rome outside. Vespas, yelling Italian prostitutes, lost tourists, drunk Irish boys, church bells… god, a thousand church bells… I wonder- what will I miss the most? What is the thing I will want back? Is it in the shower, or the kitchen, or the smell of cobblestones and history, or in the sound of the bells and the motorino’s mufflers? Or is it me? Will I miss who I am here- out on the other side of the world, all alone, the most recent version of myself? Where my oldest friend is someone I met last September… perhaps I will miss the isolation- the privacy. The quiet.

I suspect I will miss the stillness the most.

Is that stillness inside me? Or is it here in this place? Will that quiet be in LA too? Will I find again in Colorado?

Is it in me? Or do I leave it here?

And how much, if any, can I take with me?