Sybil’s Leaves 2009: Exchanging Home for Rome Sweet Rome
My flights to Rome begin at 3pm and i still have to purge the pile of clothes that needs to go into my suitcase and go out for breakfast with the parental unit. However, before bombarding my readers with new tales of my travel adventures rather unexpectedly, i thought i would provide some reflective thoughts before i head out on the first truly solo portion of my voyages.
I went for a walk at 11pm last night trying to clear my head and hopefully waylay the dreams of not being able to sleep that plagued me the night before. My parents have lived in the same house as long as i can remember - since 1986 to be exact. As i wandered the streets staring at the homes with new aluminium siding, the redone driveways, the larger trees, i felt a kinship to the sense of security only the most familiar of surroundings can provide. Of course, i then embarked upon a worried, panicked analysis of how many ways traveling alone can turn sour, but i digress. I thought of mornings spent waiting for the schoolbus telling tall tales to my younger brother. I have always had a fondness for narrative and a loose grasp on the truth when it harms the story. I remembered running around my grandmother’s house with my cousins, jumping in and out of the neighbour’s bushes (i can’t for the life of me remember the premise of the game). I missed the days when I would ride off on my bike with a friend and the only plan consisting of “finding something cool and being home before dinner.” Of course, i only walk at night now really - and suburban neighbourhoods are odd at night. I’ve lived in a couple actual cities, and if you cross other individuals at night, they are not ALL teenagers. There are couples walking home, elderly people who went out for an evening of card-playing (LOL - i played cards on Wednesday evening for about three hours - that’s a fascetious comment), etc. In suburbia, the only people roaming the street after 10pm are teenagers who are probably shocked to encounter a solo wanderer and bewildered that someone with a driver’s license would even consider hoofing it.
When i got home, i lay in bed and thought about the different incarnations of my bedroom - my personal space (my parents have never intruded and we weren’t forced to keep our rooms tidy as children, for which i am grateful). Transitioning from pink, to green, to its current cream. And the different layouts and actual pieces of furniture that have contributed to this radiating comfort. I wondered, “if i hadn’t moved my bed, and all the things that have kept me awake at night had been thought about staring at the wall in the living room rather than the wall in the kitchen - would i be a different person?” And oddly enough - the answer seems to be yes.
I’m heading to Rome in a couple of hours. Right now, i’m not really sure why i insist on leaving this little area of the world i call home. Oh right… it’s ROME!!! The city of Cicero, Caesars and Popes.
