I’m feeling nostalgic after reading all the posts about impending vacations abroad.
It could have been the spiritual connection that draws me in to Italy. It could be my cultural ancestry as well. It could be the enchanted and changing landscapes of each region, the masterful gastronomic and visual art, or the warm hospitality of the Italian people.
All I know is being seated at a noontime Mass in a small village among family members, hearing a Christian Mass recited in Latin, and listening to familiar liturgical songs being sung in Italian made me cry. All I know is that walking the quiet streets of Rome at 5:00 AM on a warm fall morning with a close friend who was then a newly-minted cancer survivor made me cry. All I know is that seeing Venice for the first time made me cry. All I know is that seeing David for the first time took my breath away and then made me cry.
All I know is I feel this wellspring each time I visit Italy.