Some people do their best thinking in the shower. I do my best thinking in Rome. (Or maybe that’s just an excuse to spend more time in Rome). Strolling along the Tiber River while my brother recovered from an intoxicating night to say the least, I had this thought:
Sometimes I forget how gloriously capable I am.
I’m not sure if it’s the fact that travel is invigorates oneself or not having to bear the constant responsibility of 3 little people for a spell, but travel – of the adults only variety – does something to me.
Sometimes I forget that I was once a single 20 something galavanting around Boston any time of day with no problem.
Sometimes I forget that I can slip easily back into city life.
Sometimes I forget that spontaneity and a break from routine are a good thing.
Sometimes I forget that I don’t have to live in fear of my autoimmune diseases.
I’ve only been in Rome for 2 days, but I feel like I’ve rediscovered someone I once was. Someone who was up for an adventure to a speakeasy at 11pm after an 8:30pm dinner or a jaunt around the Tiber River after a typical Roman breakfast of an espresso and cornetto standing up next to the counter of a nondescript Panetteria practicing my Italian and soaking up a slice of day to day life for a Roman.
I overheard someone say they didn’t think they could travel solo. I think I could.
I spend a lot of my time anxious over my chronic illnesses. Planning my days around naps and how many activities I think I can handle without burning out. Again, maybe it’s the lack of normal day to day stressors that allows me to not plan for a nap here even though I’m walking about 10x more than usual, but I find myself wondering how I can incorporate this into my “real” life. How I can pack up a piece of Italian Meredith and bring her home to the U.S.?
Maybe I just need to plan an “Italian day” at home where I walk more than normal and go to the nearest train stop and explore my corner of the world. Maybe I need to find a way to resist the demands of American life and American parenting. Maybe it’s not the world around me that needs to change, but me.
Maybe I just need to enjoy this time, sitting by the Tiber River on a rock listening to the water rustling under the bridge connecting Trastevere to Rome proper on a 60 degree sunny day in November and soak up this adventure. This pause. This joy.
And carry it within me back home.