Final Thoughts on Firenze

It's 5 o'clock in the morning. I've been awake for nearly three hours after sleeping for about two, and I'm sitting in the Florence Airport wanting nothing more than a hug from my parents and a chocolate donut.

And yet, I don't feel ready to go back home. Going back home means leaving home.

It's strange, isn't it? How people consider places away from their houses as second, third, even fourth homes? It's such an odd concept, but many people these days can list multiple places where they feel at home.

I suppose I have three now.

First, my home back home. The house my family lives in. The house I grew up in. The house that holds so many memories, of the past twenty-years of my life.

Second, my home in Oxford. It's home that moves each year: Emerson Hall, Porter Hall, and soon my apartment I'll be sharing with Kelley. Miami has been my first true home away from home. The first time I've lived away from my parents. Oxford has been home for almost three years now.

Third, the apartment I shared in Florence with my fellow study abroad students. The apartment with AC that we hadn't figured out how to turn on until two days before we left. The apartment with a tiny, tiny elevator it was near impossible to take my luggage up. The apartment with the bathroom floor that always seemed wet, no matter how many times we mopped up the water. The apartment that I've called home for the past five weeks.

Perhaps the best five weeks of my life.

I've always known I wanted to travel. Always dreamed of it. But I never thought I'd seriously have the opportunity. It seemed too expensive. It was something one daydreamed about, not something one actually did. Neither of my parents have ever been abroad. Sending me seemed too far fetched.

But they did send me. They helped me fund my trip to a country I've always wished to visit. They helped me figure out what types of clothes to bring. They helped me pack. They helped me navigate my way through the airport as best they could without actually walking beside me. They did everything they could to make this dream become a reality, and to make it the easiest trip possible.

And I will never be able to express to them just how grateful I am.

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Studying in Italy has been an amazing experience, perhaps even life-changing. I learned so much about the Italian culture, about journalism, about cinema, and about myself. It's not easy to articulate just how much of an impact this trip has had on me.

And it's all thanks to my parents.

Thanks Mom and Dad.