A bit of sunlight is drifting in the window of my room today. I change position frequently, to catch the warm rays, and my mood is instantly uplifted. I have been so cold this winter in my drafty apartment lacking heat that I am almost amazed at the feeling of warmth returning. It is so beautiful outside, and I am so lucky to be living in Italy. And yet today, I am leaving Florence.

Not forever. Goodness, no, I couldn’t do that. I must return to the States for a couple of weeks, though I don’t know for exactly how long. A little feeling of dread has made its temporary home in the pit of my stomach. I don’t want to leave. Even for this short time. I want to stay and watch the battle that Spring has waged against Winter. I want to feel and see and breathe every moment that a year has to offer. And then I want to do it all over again. And again.

I’m going to sorely miss the everyday trivialities that are not so trivial after all. The steep hike up and down the stairs in my building. The little hop-scotch dance I do to avoid steaming piles of dog waste. The cheerful wave from my neighborhood barman as I pass by. The too-long lines at the supermarket. Even the weighing of the fruit and vegetables at the supermarket. The slow-earned gestures of recognition from people I pass every day. Eating slowly and speaking more quickly in a foreign language than before. I’m not going to be gone very long, and yet, there are a million little things that tug at my heartstrings, whispering “don’t go”.

But I must go. I must pay homage to the life I left behind. I must embrace all of my loves-friends, family, familiarity- and remember that every single opportunity is also a sacrifice. I have no job, little money, and a world of people who are a day away. But I have Italy, an opportunity to make new great friends, to strengthen my brain each day, and the wonder that comes from the great pleasure that simple things bring. The warmth of the sun and the promise of another day in my beloved boot. Open doors.