The day was beautiful and the temperature moderate as I went upstairs to unpack.  I made it until 5pm, when I fell into an exhausted sleep, alone in the bed I had grown so used to.  There were two blankets (as if that could make up for the heat of another body next to mine) and I curled under them layered in two pairs of pants and a sweater.  I was alone, beginning my new life in Florence in the comfort and insecurity of the place I had called home just a few months prior.

I woke up around 1am, freezing and unable to fall back asleep.  Cold and jet-lagged and still happier here then there.  I resigned myself to my wakeful state, and happily discovered that the hot water in the shower was working.  After bathing, I turned on Cazzatore’s computer to check my email and correspond with friends and family.  For some reason, my internet will not work at the apartment, so I only write when I am at the school.  I do not want to use his computer for my words, because he may be tempted to read them, and I don’t think I’m yet ready to be so open about us, knowing he is reading.  Perhaps in the future.

I got dressed for school and stepped out into the cold air at half past eight.  I began the walk to Santo Spirito where I take my classes, noting how few tourists were milling about.  Joy filled me, along with apprehension.  What would happen when he arrived that evening?  Would it all have changed?  Would we feel the same?  I vowed to go out with V in the evening so I wouldn’t be sitting and waiting for him to arrive.

At school I greeted the staff as old friends, and noticed how everything had changed.  The students, the noise, the feeling: empty without his presence.  This was a hall of ghosts; the very place I met and began to flirt with him.  The place where my previous relationship was ended forever.  The place where all of my classmates shared a journey that would change all of our lives.  Ghosts of memories past, of ringing laughter and smiling faces.  It is cold now, and like a home that was left behind only to find that the return is surreal.  It is the same and it is completely different.

I took a short nap after class so that I would not crash too early.  Then I went and met V at his workplace and we proceeded to a pub to eat hamburgers and drink beer and avoid waiting.  The pub we went to is one that C.R. and I went to often during our stay, and also where Cazzatore and I first spent time together outside of school.  The end of that night found us together in front of my doorway, and the rest is history.  V and I had one beer and stayed a little less than 2 hours.  Then we went to another pub (a sister-site of the first) where I was hoping to find a friend that I had made during the summer.  He had worked at the pub, and I hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye before I left.  I did find him there, though discovered that he no longer worked there.  He just came and drank there often.  We chatted and he gave me his new phone number, promising invites to bbq’s and other places.  After about an hour, we all parted ways, because it was cold outside and we were looking forward to the possibility of warmth.  V and I headed to the next pub, in which another friend from the summer worked.  He, however, was not there, and so we kept on.  We stopped to chat with a friend of V’s, an American who is in a culinary program in Florence.  After about half an hour, I was getting pretty anxious thinking about seeing Cazzatore again.  I thought he might have returned by then, so V and I took our separate paths home.

I arrived at the apartment out of breath from the stairs, the cold night air, and the excitement of what would come.  I slowly unlocked the door and pushed it open.  It was completely dark.  There was nobody there.  I went to the room and forced myself to study.  I heard the door to the apartment open and I went out.  It was one of the other housemates and I decided not to go out again.  I would be in the room, trying to look like I was doing anything but waiting, when he arrived.  But all I could think about was him.  I know from experience that a couple of months away from someone can drastically change everything.  My last relationship was like that and it was terrifying.  And while I remain calm and collected, prepared to make my life singular if need be, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do it yet.  And so I waited.

An hour or two, or a lifetime passed in that room.  And finally I heard the front door open.  I was sure it was him.  I heard two of the other housemates speaking excitedly, as if to welcome someone back from a trip.  And still I waited.  Then, as I heard him moving towards the room, I opened the door and saw him. I feigned confidence.  We hugged.  He put his bags down outside his door.  And then, the embrace. It hadn’t changed so much after all.  We went and talked to the other housemates for a bit.  Then we went to our room.  We looked at photos, we laughed.  The same laughter.  If I could just keep that forever, I would be content. I know that nothing lasts forever, and loss always comes too quickly.  So I breathe in and out and remember that endings are sad and they may be very painful, but I won’t break.  Because I will always be with me, making my life my own.  And if I can have some beautiful people come into it, stay for awhile and change me in some way, then I am at peace.