I strolled along the rows of statues and monuments, reading names, dates of birth, and dates of death. The birds, chirping high above, kept me company. Sunshine cut through the branches of shady trees. Puffy clouds floated along in the sky like giant cotton balls. Everything was peaceful, if only for a moment. Surprisingly, this ended up being one of my favorite places in Milan.
Strange, isn't it?
Despite all of the fancy designer clothing shops and the beautiful churches and the captivating museums that can be found in Milan, the Monumental Cemetery was where I wanted to go on my final day in Italy.
I suppose in some ways, it’s a fitting way to end my time here. Vacations end, lives end, everything ends eventually. Nothing gold can stay, as Robert Frost once said.
But being away from home for a month is quite strange. It's long enough to disrupt your normal routines and habits, yet short enough to prevent any dramatic, revelatory change within you. It feels like just yesterday that I was packing my bag to leave. And as I repacked my bag again today to go to France, it was quite easy to remember how I packed it the first time. This is the point: the things we pack are difficult to forget.
What I have now—in addition to all the other junk that I brought in my suitcase—are magnets and keychains and memories. A photo here, a photo there. A list of places I can check off my “To Go” list. But, have I changed at all? Or am I simply carrying more things?
I’ve been reflecting a lot about my time here in Italy, and I’ve been struggling with encapsulating my thoughts and feelings. The other day a friend asked me to sum up my trip in a few words or adjectives, and unexpectedly, this was quite difficult for me. My first thought was: rainy.
It’s rained so much here, more than I would have expected. According to thelocal.it, this is “due to the prolonged absence of an anticyclone, which typically brings stable conditions and clear skies.”[1] However, describing the rain hardly summarizes the essence of my trip. I’ve seen and done so much, describing the weather can’t be my main takeaway.
And that’s when I realized I am too close to the thing to observe it, like trying to observe a raindrop in a thunderstorm. In many ways, this month has been like a storm, unpredictable and full of contrasts. At certain times, it was sunny, full of happiness, laughter, and gratitude. And at other times, it was thunderous, full of frustration, regret, and anxiety. Yet even in the most turbulent moments, there was still a beauty to all of it, a test of resilience that made the calm after the storm that much more rewarding.
One day, I'll be able to fully comprehend the aftermath of this storm. But that, as with anything worthwhile, will require time and patience.
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I strolled along the rows of statues and monuments, reading names, dates of birth, and dates of death. The birds, chirping high above, kept me company. Sunshine cut through the branches of shady trees. Puffy clouds floated along in the sky like giant cotton balls. Everything was peaceful, if only for a moment. Surprisingly, this ended up being one of my favorite places in Milan.
Strange, isn't it?
Despite all of the fancy designer clothing shops and the beautiful churches and the captivating museums that can be found in Milan, the Monumental Cemetery was where I wanted to go on my final day in Italy.
I suppose in some ways, it’s a fitting way to end my time here. Vacations end, lives end, everything ends eventually. Nothing gold can stay, as Robert Frost once said.
But being away from home for a month is quite strange. It's long enough to disrupt your normal routines and habits, yet short enough to prevent any dramatic, revelatory change within you. It feels like just yesterday that I was packing my bag to leave. And as I repacked my bag again today to go to France, it was quite easy to remember how I packed it the first time. This is the point: the things we pack are difficult to forget.
What I have now—in addition to all the other junk that I brought in my suitcase—are magnets and keychains and memories. A photo here, a photo there. A list of places I can check off my “To Go” list. But, have I changed at all? Or am I simply carrying more things?
I’ve been reflecting a lot about my time here in Italy, and I’ve been struggling with encapsulating my thoughts and feelings. The other day a friend asked me to sum up my trip in a few words or adjectives, and unexpectedly, this was quite difficult for me. My first thought was: rainy.
It’s rained so much here, more than I would have expected. According to thelocal.it, this is “due to the prolonged absence of an anticyclone, which typically brings stable conditions and clear skies.”[1] However, describing the rain hardly summarizes the essence of my trip. I’ve seen and done so much, describing the weather can’t be my main takeaway.
And that’s when I realized I am too close to the thing to observe it, like trying to observe a raindrop in a thunderstorm. In many ways, this month has been like a storm, unpredictable and full of contrasts. At certain times, it was sunny, full of happiness, laughter, and gratitude. And at other times, it was thunderous, full of frustration, regret, and anxiety. Yet even in the most turbulent moments, there was still a beauty to all of it, a test of resilience that made the calm after the storm that much more rewarding.
One day, I'll be able to fully comprehend the aftermath of this storm. But that, as with anything worthwhile, will require time and patience.
