My last night.
My last night of greeting people with “Buona sera” and a kiss on each cheek.
My last night of spending time with friends sitting in a piazza as opposed to in front of a TV.
My last night of freedom from the constant interruption of e-mails and notifications.
My last night in a land where delicious red wines cost 3 Euro and are expected to be consumed with dinner.
My last night of feeling like the most gorgeous girl that the men charming me in the street have ever seen.
My last night that all this knowledge I’ve accumulated about this incredible city and beautiful culture will actually be of use.
My last night of casually walking by amazing Renaissance palaces and churches on my way home.
…My way home.
They say “home is where the heart is,” but too many pieces of my heart will be left here in Florence–in the awe felt besides the Duomo, in the eerie silence of San Miniato al Monte, in the exhilarating tranquility of the Arno River’s soundtrack, in the local musicians who summoned gatherings of strangers in piazzas, in the restaurant owners who treated their staff like family, in the bartender who reminded me that I’m in charge of my own life, in my Italian friends who I somehow learned to understand despite the language barrier, in a special someone who taught me that movie-style romance can be real.
Hell, I might even miss those damn flower guys.
Tonight is my last night, la mia ultima notte, and I’m not ready to accept it. While I know the concept of Florence as my home cannot last, I hope the millions of amazing memories tucked away in so many places and people of this city will last forever. And I hope that everything I’ve learned here will not just be a memory now, but will remain a part of who I am and the way I live my life forever.