This weekend after things between London and I got pretty hot and heavy (And then you come in. With your hot. And your heavy.), I spent the weekend rekindling the flame with my first love, Rome. I checked several Rome to-dos off my list, including the Colosseum, Forum, and Palatine, the Ara Pacis, the Mouth of Truth, Piazza Navona’s unexpectedly awesome Chiesa Sant’Agnese in Agone, and Chiesa di San Luigi in Francesi with its three Caravaggio’s. As the weather was positively glorious, we spent much time wandering through some of our favorite increasingly tourist-filled places – Piazza del Popolo, Piazza Navona, Campo de’ Fiori, Fontana di Trevi, the Jewish Ghetto, and of course, our hood, Trastevere – and discovering several new must-eats, Pizzeria di Buffetto and Gelateria del Teatro among the tops. And so, I emerge with some photographs I don’t despise, a profound rarity for me. Behold.
Sure, maybe watching Rent tonight made me a little bit emotional. Sure, maybe Jake walked in on Lily and me quietly whimpering and wiping away tears. It happens. In fact, the day that stops happening is the day I know I’ve lost touch with something important. I will never forget sitting in Tess’ basement and watching Rent for the first time in what – eighth grade? And we, a pair of white suburban Catholic school girls in plaid skirts, for whatever reason felt like it was meant for us. Thinking back, it is actually possible that moment marked the beginning of me being a cryer. I was a tough chick in grade school guys; seeing me cry was something people gathered around to witness (I wish I was kidding about that.) Anyway, after I saw Rent for the first time I bawled my 13-year-old eyes out. I don’t just mean during the sad parts of the movie – I mean after. Ask Tess, I sat on her couch and bawled for a solid fifteen. Was I sad? A little bit, but not exactly. I just felt it. Like I always do. Like I did just now.
So yeah, I miss all you guys.
Measure your life in love.