Family: Found

I bet some of you come to Italy to pave your way to Italian fluency – or to pass with a C average in Italian 101. Maybe some of you came to saturate yourself in a fashionista culture – and then balked when you saw that Italians don’t step outside without donning a shiny down jacket… even in 70-degree weather. There might be others who came to escape the confines of a habitual routine that you’ve practiced for past three years at your university – wanting to prove to yourself that they are spontaneous and can live without the help of your mother’s free laundry service and cookie filled care packages.

I came to Florence for something slightly different. It might make me sound old-fashioned or unusual, but it’s a reason that I think about daily. I came to Florence not looking for parties, discotecas or an excuse to play in the Mediterranean – I came to Florence to find what it means to have a family.

These days, my immediate family is pretty small – it’s made up of three interesting characters I like to call me, myself and I. I don’t feel sorry about my situation – it’s life and everyone’s is different, mine just happens to have extra guidance from above and a few less folks on the home-front.

But what sparked my Italian dreams, like most, was rooted within a vision of Italian food. I kept picturing heaps of steaming tagliatelle and pillows of ricotta cheese, all surrounded by an Italian family who actually come around the table every evening to share in this communion. Through this seemingly ordinary activity, the Italian family takes time to share with their children the importance of being together and keeping relationships alive – a pearl of wisdom I remember hearing from my father. As I sat alone in my college apartment, eating my bowl of quinoa with a book in hand, I decided that my search for family was to begin that spring semester, across the Atlantic ocean, within the cobblestone streets I so longed to wander.

Since my arrival in January, everyday that I’ve lived with the lovely and graceful Loredana, I’ve come closer and closer to finding what that definition of family means to me. It’s not crystal clear or clean-cut, and sometimes, it’s not “pretty.” I’ve come to see that family means making mistakes, but moving past them – accepting that one evening, your grandson might accidentally clog the washing machine with his dirty rugby uniform, or that there may be a miscommunication about inviting a friend over for dinner when there wasn’t enough food prepared. Family means getting down to the heart of emotions – that at the dinner table, you feel comfortable enough to say that you’re not doing ok, how you’re unsure of what you want to do with your life and how sometimes you worry about your future. But most of all, family is constant, which is a lesson I’ve taken to heart the most. It means tucking a child in at night and holding her hand until she falls asleep; it means sitting around the table every Sunday afternoon, simply enjoying time spent in each other’s presence; it means kissing each other on the cheek every time you say goodbye, expressing your love and how it is unfailing.

When I think back on my time spent in Florence, I might remember the names of the wines I tasted or the color of my mask for Carnevale, but what I will remember is that I found my sense of family. I’ve learned that a family doesn’t have to be composed of a certain number of people or all live in the same house. They don’t always agree with each other and sometimes they step on each other’s toes. But a family, a true family, is bound together by a single pulse – when one person hurts, everyone senses their pain; when someone needs help, support is given without hesitation; when someone needs to talk, people listen and don’t make excuses.

While I may not be Italian, I consider myself to have adopted the “family-centric” Italian perspective. I’m no longer afraid to think about the family I thought I was missing. Living with an Italian family has taught me that family never leaves you, no matter how far away they may seem. Your family is something to be proud of, and regardless of who you consider to be part your family, nothing can come between you and their unconditional care. When I return back to the States at the end of May, I’m excited to think of the family I will return to, made up of friends of all ages and backgrounds. Four months ago, I would not have said this statement with the confidence I feel today. So thank you, Loredana; thank you Luigi, Elizabetta, Olimpia and Liz – and to Italia, grazie mille, thanks for the memories.