Story
Many who know me know that I was a missionary in Italy for two years. I’ve always looked back on that time fondly (even if with rose-colored glasses). I think I tend to do that with any significant period in my life, and, as I get older, I find that there are more and more of those times to look back on. In any case, almost 13 years after returning from my mission, I went back to Italy for the first time in 2014. As I walked the streets I used to walk as a near-child, I was struck by how familiar everything felt. It was as if I could have turned the corner and they would have all been there. I missed them. The buildings, the smells, the shops, even some of the people were the same…they had been going on for the last 13 years without me, and I showed up a time-traveler wondering where everyone I knew had gone. I wished I could have been there with them again, but maybe knowing what I know now, and knowing that I was going to be okay, because I don’t think I knew that then. In spite of its challenges, I continue to hold that time among my most sacred of memories. Thank you for sharing that moment with me. It matters that you were there. It will matter that I was where I am in this moment.
How did it go so fast?