I was not born with the wanderlust. I am a homebody through and through. Ask anyone who knows me and they will confirm it. I love my cottage and my small town. Hands down, for me, home is simply the best.
However ~ you knew it was coming ~ whenever I finish watching Moonstruck or Under The Tuscan Sun, something deep inside of me starts to ache just a bit. It's primal. I miss my father and his big hugs, I miss my grandmother and her giant pots of sauce, I miss loud family dinners, conversations laden with thick accents and stories of the old country. I find myself homesick for a place I've never been...of course, it's Italy.
Now, even though I am Sicilian, it's not the island that I long to visit, but the region of Tuscany instead. Perhaps because I already live on the coast, I find myself drawn to the pictures of mountains, open spaces and fields full of colorful blooms. Besides, I don't look Sicilian. My blond hair and green eyes set me apart from my clan. I think my true ties lie north...again, that pull toward home. Spectacular.
I fantasize about living abroad. I am not interested in a vacation. You don't visit home, that's not the same. I want to live there in a fabulous villa. It doesn't have to big, I am a cozy type of girl.
I want to spend days, surrounded by atmosphere that is void of strip malls and expressways.
I want to shop at the local market, instead of the crowded superstore
and then come home and cook my own meal in my fabulously rustic kitchen.
I want to stroll through uncluttered streets
and chat for hours in a small café.
I want to sit in awe of nature,
relax and enjoy my home ~ away from home.
Of course they'd be red! ;)
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