And now, I wait.

Fall arrived to Oxford last Saturday with sunshine, clear skies, and a light breeze. It was a divine day, but as I pulled on my green sweater and jeans, I felt miserable. Alessandro had asked me to take him to Cincinnati to catch the 6:30 pm Megabus to Chicago. I was supposed to help him leave me. 


Alessandro and I became almost brother and sister during his two-week visit. He was constant entertainment and fun--always willing and happy to see me. His final week, I saw him every night except Tuesday. We'd go out to dinner, visit the Rec Center, he cooked dinner for me, I'd drive him home after partying Uptown, we went on a walk one evening and then sat on a bench on High Street and talked while we people-watched. We had a big reunion of the summer program students at Skipper's, and it was so great to have (almost) everyone together again. 


I pulled up to the Clinton's house where he was staying and parked the car. I went ahead and popped the trunk hatch so we could get his luggage in the car. The door of the house was open, and I could hear everyone saying goodbye to Alessandro. "We'll miss you!" "Come back before going home, dude." "It has been great having you here!" 


I walked up to the entryway and stepped inside. I smiled at everyone and gave Ale (Ah-lay) a hug. And before I know it, we are in the car, luggage safely stored in the back of my Jetta, and are on the way to Cincinnati. 


We talked about a lot of things during the 45 minute drive. Cars and the Florence Program, I remember in particular. I wanted to drive slowly, extend my time with my friend, but when I get nervous I tend to have a heavy foot on the gas pedal. Ale's enthusiasm for the city was infectious. There was an event occurring in Paul Brown Stadium, and he drank in the scene of thousands of Americans walking toward the stadium, most people in red, white, black or a mix of the three. 


"This is what America is," he said, looking at the skyscrapers and the busy mix of people, cars, and officers trying to control the crowd. 


We circled the block a few times, looking for the bus stop and asking people if they knew where it was. Finally, I pull into a hotel drop-off area (the only available 'parking' with thousands of people in town for whatever event Paul Brown Stadium was having). 


I threw myself at Alessandro, and stood on my tip-toes to give him a proper hug goodbye. 


"I am going to miss you a lot," I told him. 


"You have the best chance of seeing me again of everyone, because you want to come to Florence again," he replied, smiling. 


He grabbed his rolling luggage bag, and started walking down the block. "Ciao, Kaitlin!" he said over his shoulder. I waved in acknowledgment, pulled away from the curb, and headed home, my car lighter, but my heart heavier.
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Leaving Florence August 15th, I knew it wasn't really goodbye for good. Alessandro's arrival was something to look forward to--a reunion with Italy, in a way. With no plans for my next Italian encounter laid out, all I can do now is wait with great longing and impatience.