It’s hard to say goodbye. It’s even more difficult to be cavalier about leaving the cushy confines of the Rome Cavalieri. Yet my time in Rome has come to an end. As promised, I’ve eaten my body weight in pasta, consumed enough wine to float my way through the holidays, and am feeling like an extra out of 8 1/2.
More significantly though, I’ve had the chance to reconnect – albeit briefly – with the curious seventeen year old who long ago wandered the city’s maze of streets in awe of this world and the world inside him waiting to be born. I may be filling my suitcase with pasta and coffee to take back home, but sitting here on my balcony and taking in the birds-eye view of St. Peter’s and the city spread out before me like a sumptuous buffet, I’m thinking I’ve already got myself the best of souvenirs.
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