Un incontrare..

Last weekend I met a girl. This girl wasn’t particularly beautiful or particularly funny. She wasn’t inspirational or the protagonist of a heart wrenching story. But she was memorable. She was memorable for me because she was like looking through a time machine. For fifteen minutes I felt as though I was having a conversation with myself three years in the future. Her name was Danielle.

Danielle studied in Tuscania three years ago. She spoke a little more Italian than her classmates, but still nowhere near fluent. She was timid and excited and flirtatious and naïve. She lived here for one semester and met her husband. When we met she was sitting in the restaurant that he used to work in, the restaurant where they met. She was with her entire family and he with his and they were having a second celebration for their recent union. As I was walking out I caught a glimpse of their wedding photos that his proud father and owner of the restaurant framed and put on the wall. I loved their story, I loved her radiating joy, and I loved meeting her.

I have studied in Italy for almost 6 months now. I remember being the new girl, starting in Italy for the first time. I was lucky enough to have friends that had already studied here for one semester who took me under their wing. This time I am that person, and I have extended my wings to others. I can almost understand some Italian but am nowhere near fluent. I help translate what I can, just as Danielle did. I am not looking to meet the love of my life, in fact my father’s one condition when he encouraged me to study in Italy was “Do not get married.” I was, however, inspired, intrigued and in awe of this young girl that has lived my life and come away so happy.

I love what I’m doing, I love where I am, I love how fortunate I am and I try to appreciate every moment of it. But being diagnosed with bronchitis, being miserable due to the weather and being mildly home sick I’ve found myself losing sight recently of how lucky I am and how truly happy I am to be here. Meeting this girl reminded me of that.
It’s not because she has a fairytale happy ending, in fact it is more so because she does not have an ending yet. She is me and I am her. She studied at the same school I am studying in the same small town I am living in. I hope that one day I can go back to Florence, or come back to Tuscania and walk the same old streets older and wiser. I hope that these memories will follow me for the rest of my life and shape me the way it shaped her life. I know this experience has already changed me for the better.