To Go Again

"Tickets are booked."

I stare in disbelief at the text from my dad. In that moment, all I feel is stillness, despite the bustling library workroom where I sit at my desk.

A bubbling text box dissolves after a moment into a set of dates. That gets my heart pumping as I realize that the dates he booked are less than two weeks away.

I set my phone down on my desk and rub my hands over my face. As realization sets in, excitement starts to simmer inside me. But first...

Picking up my phone, I tap out, "All of us?"

A pause.

"Just you and your sister."

More nerves thrum in my stomach. Despite growing up traveling Europe regularly, I've never flown without my parents. My mind flashes ahead to the trip, envisioning the suitcases, airports, flights--and finally the destination.

Sicily.

I was born there and spent three-quarters of my life on the island, despite my American citizenship. With my dad's job at the nearby Naval Air Station, I'd grown up in a strange blend of American and Italian cultures. Far from any blood relations, we'd formed a community consisting of both transient military friends and Sicilian locals.

Found family, in its truest sense.

In late 2022, we moved back to the USA, putting down roots in a way I'd never done before while living stateside. I love my new home, my job, the college options nearby, my church, and the friends I've found.

Still, although I've settled here, adopting this new place as my home, the history and roots aren't there yet. No matter how much I love it here, I still miss my island home. Sicily holds memories of a younger version of me. Taking sunset trips to the beach, traveling to excitement-charged showjumping competitions, dancing with friends on our terrace beneath the stars, hiking on Mount Etna while ash fell onto my hair, stuffing myself in restaurants where the owners know me by name and greet me with hugs and kisses.

After the move, I grew accustomed to grieving for what I left behind while still enjoying my new home to the fullest. Certainly, I wanted to return to my childhood home for a visit, but that seemed like a distant eventuality; a dream that might never be fulfilled.

Now, with that dream appearing on the horizon like a sunrise, the hope of seeing my birth home again begins to shine in my soul. Still sitting at my desk, the clock ticking slowly down on my last break of the day, a smile begins to spread over my face.

Eyes damp, hands shaking, I share the news with my coworkers. With each word, it feels more and more real, as does the blend of eagerness and anxiety that hums beneath my skin at the thought of preparing for such a trip. They celebrate with me, even the often-grumpy courier.

My timer rings on my break, and I head back to the desk. For the last hour of my shift, the thought of the trip fuels my customer-service smile.

As soon as I clock out, I climb into my car and drive home, Italian pop blasting through my car's stereo. The music brings to mind dancing with friends, walking through cobblestone streets on warm summer nights, sandy feet running down the beach to leap into cool salty water.

I smile all the more as small-town America flies by outside my car windows, waving at drivers I know as we pass each other on the smooth black road. This town has become just as much a part of me as Sicily in a very short time. The contrast between the Italian music and memories and the scenery outside my car feels inherently me.

I'm not fully Sicilian, despite my love for the culture and the people, but neither do I feel entirely American. When I was younger, I just wanted to fit in, but as I've grown older, I've come to accept myself as I am, whether it fits with the people around me or not. I've learned that we're all different, in culture, life experiences, personalities, or even in individual struggles. I believe that part of inner strength is accepting who we are in the moment while still committing to and allowing room for future growth.

I'm excited for this trip to come, for the chance to revisit the language, people, and places that formed so much of my life. Maybe all will be as I remember, maybe it won't. People and places change.

In the words of a lovely family friend: "You can't go back, but you can go again."

Indeed, that's all I want from this trip. Just like I have changed since moving, so, too, am I certain that things will be different when I return to Sicily.

No matter how similar or dissimilar it is to my memories, however, I'm still excited for the chance to "go again," to experience the place that will always hold a piece of my heart.

~

Gabriella is a young writer, part-time librarian, and equine enthusiast. You can usually find her devouring a book, hanging out with her family members (including the four-legged ones), or practicing archery. She is currently revising her first allegorical fantasy novel about a winged warrior who is captured by her enemies and plunged headfirst into a disaster of epic proportions.

For updates on that and other writing projects, follow her on IG at https://www.instagram.com/fantasticalmusings/