Submitted by Jennifer Katzmire on the 2017 winter session program in Italy sponsored by the Department of Art…
I can’t exactly say that I get homesick easily. I adapt well and keep my friends and family close in thought, always excited to get back home to see them after I’ve finished my adventures with plenty of stories and souvenirs in hand. But now it’s nearly the end of our journey, and I can tell I’ve been away from home for a while.
This realization hit me after our last excursion. We had visited a bronze foundry and marble-carving workshop that day, and the town was not far from a beach. Of course when one of our professors mentioned it, everyone had been on-board with stopping by for a few minutes on our way home. It was really a wonderful sight! The sun was starting to hang lower in the sky, and the area was mostly clear of other people. There were also shells everywhere! Mostly clams, muscles, and oysters but colorful nonetheless. Everyone had a great time, like children playing in the sand and yes, even the water. For a moment, while I was focusing my camera on the shoreline, with the nearby palm trees and distant mountains out of frame, it looked and felt like I was standing on a beach back home. Most of my childhood summers were spent on beaches that were essentially the same. I lowered my camera and I was back in Italy. All I could really do for a few minutes was stare out over the water, gradually taking in how remarkably familiar this foreign place was.
I’ll never say that I want to leave Italy, in fact I’m going to miss it terribly, but I think that by the end of this month, I’ll have been away from home just long enough. What I’ve noticed in my travels, at least in my case, is that once my mind starts to play tricks on me like that, so that I think I’m home, I’m ready to go home.