my Italy.

Every time I pull a shot from our espresso machine at home, I return to Italy. To the table where Tim and I ate breakfast each morning in Florence, excited to begin our day.

I remember hearing the quiet murmurings of breakfast, as we would walk down the hallway from our room... the slight tinkling of sterling silver spoons against porcelain, as boarders stirred the raw sugar into their freshly pulled cappuccinos. The way the croissants had that sticky orange glaze that, once identified, made you wonder how you had ever enjoyed a croissant without the glaze on it before. Our hostess and landlord, so graciously conversing with each and every one of her guests... pouring her heart into every cup of coffee.

Our breakfast complete, we would either brave the antique elevator and pray for mercy, or walk down the long winding staircase to street level... Florence awaiting us. Tantalizing us with its history, its gelato, and its undeniable European-ness. Very little can go wrong when you're visiting a brand new city, across the world from your home country - everything seems like an adventure, and fear takes a backseat to wonder.

- - -

This morning, I woke up in a familiar bed, next to a familiar person. I lapsed into a familiar routine. Morning prayers hit the tiles of our shower, and worship music played through my phone while I got ready, and put on my makeup in a familiar way.

But in between all of these small details that make up a life, I stepped outside of the usual and did something else equally small... like pulling a shot of espresso. And all of a sudden, everything in me became a recollection of a memory. I traveled across the world, with one inhale... and a newness was mine again for that small, precious, remembered moment.

- - -

It made my heart ache of fullness, just the right amount... C.S. Lewis would call this joy, and I very much agree with him. That longing to know where all the beauty comes from. Brought about by a memory, a happiness, a reconciling once again with this present moment and the beauty of it as well. To wake in a home that is my own, surrounded by sheets and pillows and comforts. To have a husband beside me, breathing deeply and content. To have a job to go to, with people I enjoy, doing work that I find purpose in. Even though I miss things before... oh, how grateful I am for right now.

- - -

This is my Italy, today. This beauty, this familiarity, that one day will be a memory I'll have and remember while pulling a shot of espresso.

Who knows where my life will be or what it will look like, when that moment comes. But someday, it will happen... and I hope that I will remember the joy of comfort, of the familiar, of peace, stability, and quietude. And I pray that I am as grateful for it, as I am for the memories of last August.

And that it would be just as much a part of me, and the woman I still am striving to become.