I'm at that stage. The one where I can count the number of clean underwear left on one hand (at least I still have some left!). Where I use as much shampoo as possible and, when putting it back in my travel bag, consider what to throw out, leave behind and abandon in order to make room. Where the number of days changes to sleeps, hours and train rides. Where eyes grow heavy but fight to stay open in an attempt to prolong the inevitable. The end.
It's inavoidable. I checked in for my flight, had my last plate of pasta, my last cone of gelato and my last (and, fittingly, best) cup of Italian coffee. I packed my bag for the last time (both a blessing and a curse) and I just used my last Oil of Olay cleansing cloth. The facts are undeniable.
It's time to go home.
1 comments:
I prefer to think of it not as leaving but as a day closer to being able to go again!
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