I can’t say there will be another time in my life where I will take classes in a nunnery or crawl up the steps Jesus once walked. I can’t say there will be another time when I can take over 80% of my class actively out on the city streets and give a presentation in the St. Ignacio church, pointing directly to the fresco I’m speaking about.
I don’t think I’ll ever be more proficient in risking my life to cross the street for a slice of pizza or pulling off a fake European look and still passing as a French student.
I don’t know if I’ll ever share an apartment in the middle of a major city with 5 other girls, each of us from a different state, or shop in Zara as much for toucan T’s and a good time.
During my six weeks with you I spent but one weekend away. Out of all the cities I have visited, I have gotten to know you the best. I can walk your streets without a map and I can rate the top ten best (and worst) gelato places hidden throughout your narrow alleyways.
I remember one of the first things I said when I got to you was, “I love Rome soooo much.”
The response I got was a half-puzzled look from the person sitting next to me who said, “Riley, we aren’t even in Rome yet, we’re on the freeway.” HAHAHA
Technically all I was looking at were some graffitied buildings and bland street medians, but I was already in love with you.
Or maybe the idea of you.
Or maybe I just really wanted some sunshine and gelato.
Or all of the above.
Either way you have been a beyond interesting city, being my last major stop on my journey abroad, I had a completely different agenda here. I had no agenda. I just hung out, ate food, and got lost. I found new restaurants, made new friends, and sipped coffee of out martini glasses from as many rooftops as possible.
Even after taking advantage of every opportunity to wonder through your many alleyways and getting acquainted with the local neighborhoods, I still found myself stumbling upon new and even better bakeries, pizza parlors, and gelaterias over my last handful of hours.
With only a few days left living in your eternal history, I wanted to make one last run down the list of some of my favorite places, churches, and restaurants. But my last week went nothing like the itinerary I had written out and I realized that you never know when it’ll be your last.
Last visit to the pantheon, last time in your favorite hole-in-the-wall, last time walking up that one picture-perfect street.
It’ amazing how many things I didn’t say goodbye to. But there’s no problem with this as long as I wouldn’t go back and change any of my final moments had I previously known that I would never be back (fingers crossed I’ll be back again someday but, hey, life is crazy and has more than just your cobble-stone streets to offer, even though I love you).
I swear if I had “live like it’s your last” tattooed on my forehead I would live a different life. Not that I am counting all of my days rather than making them count or that I am too consumed by other things to take a moment and smell the roses, but truly living every second that way takes conscious effort!
A friend and I were mulling over lessons learned abroad when she hypothetically asked if I would be more kind, thoughtful, forgiving, at peace if I consciously woke up every day trying to live as if it was my first, last, and only day.
We all know life is short. We know that time flies, that sometimes you gotta take life a little less seriously, that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. But, still, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this reminder or actually understand where all my time really goes.
I’m officially headed into my senior year.
Not only do I have no idea where the last five months went, but I have no idea where my childhood has gone.
But I can surely make the most of it by entering into each new day with the excitement that comes with firsts, the appreciation and reflection that comes with lasts, and the thoughtfulness and contentment that comes with onlies.
In my mind, thinking outside of the “time is short” box and viewing each day, each visit, each meal as my first, last, and only encapsulates the bigger picture a little better. It helps me prioritize my life and care a little more about the things worth caring for.
As my Italian buddy said on my last night with you, “Some things will always be back in the states. But the trevi? Rome? Those will not.”
Intentionally living
(or at least trying to),
Riley Makenna
Compass 