when pain becomes peace

thoughts on a friday

I always laugh at the timing of the universe, and I have to back track when my mind starts to wonder: “am I in the right place?” - because I firmly believe that, “here is where you are.” And the way that I interpret that - is that wherever you chose to be, is always where you are meant to be, in this exact moment.

I’m leaving for Rome tomorrow, March 9. Rose’s birthday. And I can never remember how old she is. Seriously. I can never remember how old my parents are. But something tells me I don’t think she’d mind.

I’m almost finished packing, doing one last load of laundry, and am making a comfort bowl of gnocchi. I’m in a fuzzy pink robe, and I just know that this suitcase is going to be a bitch to lug on il trano tomorrow. 

Before travel days, I always remind myself: people do this all the time, with a lot more in tow. For example: people with bambinos.

It feels weird to say that I’ve spent almost 2 months in Milan. That means it’s almost been 2 months since I packed up my little Roma AirBnB, and those tears that were just flowing and flowing and flowing. 

Readers and friends, friends and readers (they’re one and the same, really) -  have been sending me messages. Telling me that I need to make these newsletters into a book. Or a tv series. Or a movie. 

“I want to. But I just don’t know how the story will end.” Is my response to when my spiritual friend emails me about putting these letters all together. 

“It never ends. Love is infinite and eternal. The mind is the only one looking for a destination. Love knows it is the destination.”

My friend who is Team PN always tells me that our relationship needs to play out somewhere, or exist somewhere. We exist somewhere else. 

But it really is full circle, isn’t it? How, if we let it. Pain will eventually turn into peace. 

The church bells are going off as I write this. And the tiniest bit of sun is shining on to my bowl of gnocchi. 

I’ve wanted to call my mom every day this week. Just to laugh. I want to tell her about my latest adventures in my mini skirt and Zara crewneck. 

“Mom.” Our conversation would start. “Everyone was so happy to see me. Can you believe it? I wasn’t in trouble. Or at least…not in a lot of trouble this time.”

Love is infinite and eternal. The mind is the only one looking for a destination.

I’m taking a breath as I write this. Love. Real love, doesn’t have an end date, does it? And I wonder if that is what is so powerful about these love stories that don’t have a chance to play out as traditional relationships. The stories that don’t have an ending. Those stories where they were never officially yours.

But they ended up becoming something a lot more powerful than that. 

They were a feeling. A recognizable figure of acceptance. On their best days, they were a friend. A trusted confidant. And on their worst, they were a mirror. A mirror of what we thought would save us. A mirror of a cure to what we thought we had missing. 

They were a lesson. They were a catalyst.

But what did you teach them? 

“You inspired me.” The Man at the Front told me last week. “To write.”

“What do you mean?” I‘m laying next to him in bed with my head on his chest. 

“I was having a hard time. Figuring out how I felt, and what I wanted to say. So I took out an old journal and started to write.”

My dad asked me how I felt about the Man at the Front yesterday. We spent half an hour chatting.

“I don’t know.” I tell him. “I really don’t.” There are so many reasons as to why I think it wouldn’t work. He’s younger. Not by a lot, but by a few years. It’ll take time for him to establish some ground, some rooting in his career. He wants to stay in Rome, to build something firmly there.

And I just…I like leaving things up to destiny.

But if I’m truly being honest?

I wouldn’t mind having someone’s arms to always sink in to.

Only time will tell, won’t it?

“Here is where you are.”

I love you. I’ll see you back in Rome.

xo,

Emily

ps. i wish i hated you is on repeat. it might be the new “maroon”. what do you think?