Crashed on the floor when I moved in, this little bungalow with some strange new friends.

It's the five of us.

I admit that I'm bummed that Megan and Jen both beat me to the inevitable Home entry, but after this past weekend, this weekend where our biggest stress was climbing the side of Positano to make it to our bus on time, wearing swimsuits and skirts and holding juicy, dripping kumquats in our hands, I should have nothing to wish for, nothing to wait for. But maybe that's why it is happening after this weekend. Walking down the hillside of Capri, to find our rocky beach, to lay out for four hours, Ingrid said "this is honestly the best day of my life." And there's nowhere to go but down from there.

And what I've discovered about home came most intensely from this weekend. The first night there were two girls in our dorm who could not stop bitching about staying in a dorm in a hostel, about how they were like, totally, in an orphanage. And I noticed the glazed over look that I used to receive in Boston, when we told them we were from Wisconsin/Minnesota/Indiana. The Unimportant Places. The "what do you dooo there?" Places. And I am so thankful for that. I am so unbelievably grateful that I am from a culture that celebrates humility, graciousness, kindness. That I was raised not to believe that I am better than anyone because I am from one of the two places that Italians seem to think comprise all of America - California and New York. I love the coast. Both of them. I want to live in Boston again, I want to live in New York, I want to live in San Francisco, but I am a midwestern girl at heart. 

I'm surprised to find myself, like Jen, proud to be American. But more than that, I am proud to be from the midwest. I am proud to say that's where I'm from, even if the only ones who understand this are also from the midwest. I could wish nothing more for my children than they grow up understanding these midwestern values. They are by no means confined to the midwest, but you find them in abundance here. And I miss that.

God I miss that. I miss polite people, I miss my group of friends, where there's no conflict of status, where we're all on the same level, our connection running through us like roots. I need them again in my life. But it makes me appreciative all the same of the roots I have here as well, the people I have here. The Midwest goes to Italy. Represented by Wisconsin, Indiana, Ohio and Minnesota.

I'm amazed now, a week and a half before our program ends, to realize the friendships that I've made here have become monumentally important to me. I love our home. It feels like home, and I love that. I love that Ingrid, Stef, Jen and I have been welded together in this experience, each of us unable to describe studying abroad without mentioning each other. I'm so happy that Mandy is part of our group. Our group that has somehow separated itself for the most part from the rest of our program, but we all click so perfectly. Perfect in our imperfections, picking up each other's slack, finishing each other's sentences, picking up each other's messes, taking care of each other. 

That's what I'll miss I suppose. But I shouldn't miss it now. I need to focus on the next week and a half I have here, with them.

I'm glad we have each other.