A Love Letter: Here’s to keepin’ your love life alive.

Today, a series of unfortunate events have clouded my usual sunny skies, fogged my window-shields of life, clogged my toilet of joy and dirtied my blankets of happiness (insert more clever metaphors for being a happy-sucker here). Point being, I found myself feeling unsure about my upcoming return to Florence at this time in my life.

But I got up, did some yoga, drank a hot cocoa (hehe, guilty) and got my shit together. So heres to getting your head on straight and keepin’ your love life alive: whether it be with lube, a sweet date, foreplay, or simply a love letter. (or one of my fav Italian love songs!) 

Lyrics in English

Firenze. Mi amore,

I will never forget those last moments we shared together. Your lights were reflecting back up off the Arno and slowly, like a warm breeze, entering my heart. It was the light that made me know I would come back to you soon.

As I leaned against your old brick walls on the Ponte Vecchio, I stared off towards Scandicci and thought about how it was when we first met. Inspiro (inhale) and espiro (exhale), I breathed you in and out like we were meeting for the first time and I was transported back to the passenger seat of a taxi.

The sounds of Italian talk radio rushed in and out of my ears as my first images of you passed me by like flashes of colors. I cannot recall what I saw outside of the taxi windows, but as I sat speeding towards the city centre I began to observe what was inside the taxi. This was the first Italian man I had ever been in contact with, and fittingly enough, oil paints and paintbrushes littered the floors of his car. He wore a black fitted hat and together we sat quietly listening to the radio with no words.

My first meeting with you was as an observer. Quietly and curiously relishing in your beauty and fascinations. Now I find myself, months later, a completely new person who has grown, learned about passion, and changed for the better.

You made me grow as I flew across an ocean, rode on the back of a Vespa and walked alone through foreign cities. You aloud me to realize that sometimes the scary situations, are often times the most worthwhile.

You made me understand passion as I watched in enchantment as the Italian baristas pressed, tapped and swirled about behind the counters at the bars. Those mornings I would come in and an espresso would be placed down before me, and before I turned to leave I would part with a simple, Molto bene, Grazie! (Very good, thanks!), and the barista would turn towards me, touch his chest and sincerely state, Prego signorina (My pleasure miss)

You changed me for the better by ripping me out of my comfort zone and helping me gain self-confidence as I spoke Italian, gave guided tours through the Basilica of Santa Croce and gave me a passion for travel I never knew I had.

Lastly, and something unexpected, you made me trust in the magic of serendipity. For you proved that good things happen when you least expect them, but often times when you need them most.

So here I sit, only 14 days until I return to you, and as I look down at my freshly printed yearlong Italian Visa, I cannot help but let a smile creep across my face. I now realize the biggest lesson you have taught me: to never let your dreams be only dreams, and to always, sogni d’oro (dream of gold).


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