Dear Italy,

It hasn’t been that long since I last saw you. Not even a full year yet. But I felt the need to tell you today how much I miss you. I feel the need quite often, actually. Nearly every day. But today is the day I have chosen to write you a love letter. I am hoping you might hear me more clearly this way.

Yesterday, I read my journal entries from when we were last together. And the day before that I watched a slideshow of the photos I took of you. You look even better than I remembered. The evening sunlight in those few from the Residensa della Signoria in Florence? Those are hot. I mean you look amazing--despite what those silly boys said about you. What do they know? They're only kids. Someday they’ll appreciate you the way I do.

Tomorrow I may take out my suitcase and try to see if I can catch your scent, which would be impossible with all the trips which have come between. But maybe, buried down in the corner somewhere, I can get a whiff of the peaches from Tony's garden, or the smell of the sea in Roseto. Just a tiny bit to keep my heart from bursting with missing you.

I'm sure everyone who has met you says they love you most, but I hope you know I am the one who truly does. They can say all they want, and I know it's not really a contest or anything (but I'm still the winner).

Did I tell you I'm learning to speak your language? It's not easy. I mean, no one said it was going to be, but I'm no spring chicken and we all know it would be a lot easier if my brain was still a sponge like my kid's. But I'm determined not to come back until I can tell you in your own words that my storia d'amore with you is endless.

Arrivederci a presto, Italia!

xo

Me