Greetings from Rome. Yesterday was one of those days where I once again felt extremely grateful to be alive, but it was also one of those days where I was reminded of the price that comes with my nomadic line of work.
Whenever I post photos of new places that I get to see, I always do so with a certain amount of hesitation. “Look at these fabulous places, and look at how great my life is compared to yours!”- that’s exactly the impression that I do NOT want to convey when posting on this blog. Sure, I bank a lot of frequent flyer miles, but that doesn’t mean my life is all sightseeing and no sacrifice. There is always a price to be paid; it’s just a matter of when and how.
Yesterday started off much like any other day. The noise outside wakes me up and soon enough my brain proceeds with a line of interrogation that I have done since I was a sixteen. This always starts off with the most salient of questions, “Where am I?”
Rome is today’s answer, and I remember everything that comprised my day of travel the day before. Soon I am rolling off of the fine pull-out couch and pulling on running shoes to head out the door and shake off this latest serving of travel fatigue.
Lucky for me, Rome offers paths designed for pedestrians. I quickly gain access to the water level of the river and receive confirmation that I am indeed again back in Italy. “Bella!” calls out a worker as I pass by and start my run.
This city has long since grown accustomed to its awe-inspiring historical structures on every street. I, on the other hand, am still in wonder as I stop and snap photos everywhere.
Experiencing views like this is a major reason why I can’t seem to stop traveling.
After my run enough I come back and shower. Soon we head back out into the city to do some traditional exploring. I’m a bit off the grid here in Rome, as internet is not as readily accessible in my more than adequate accommodations. The lack of internet really isn’t a big deal; I certainly don’t mind being disconnected from time to time. Besides, frickin’ Rome is just out there beyond my computer, and it would be a tragedy to spend a significant amount of my time here glued to some technological gadget.
The Pantheon, in all of its dinosaurial glory, will always trump the iPad.
Still, the end of the day does bring me to a cafe so that I may check my email (grazie free wi fi). After only twenty-four hours away, my inbox has become stuffed with various crap from Facebook, work e-mail, personal e-mail, and online shopping solicitations. There’s also a message from one of the most near and dear people in my life, and the subject looks like this:
FW: It’s a Boy! Congrats!
My immediate reaction to this is “Hey, someone had a baby, someone who my best friend must know…” I find it amusing that I did not immediately interpret this to mean that my very pregnant friend has just delivered her baby very unexpectedly.
Yet this is the case. I am sitting on a cobblestone street and soon scrolling through delivery room photos where my amazing twin sister (yes, to me she has long-since been considered family) has just become a mother. I don’t know how long ago she gave birth, but the email tells me to call ASAP because there has been a change in plans and I am suddenly a godmother. This is not the first time in my life that I have felt very far away from the people I care about most, and I’m crying while sitting and staring at a computer screen depicting life events that are once again passing me by.
All of us who serve in my type of work must contend with this reality. It’s the thing that takes its greatest toll, but it’s one we accept in the name of providing for ourselves and our loved ones. In 2007 I remember sitting on a warship in the middle of the South China Sea with tears streaming down my face as I looked at photos of my sister’s wedding in Saint John. I was supposed to be there and serve as the Maid of Honor, but my leave request was canceled at the last minute. Duty called and I was pulled to deploy and miss out on something that I meant so much to me. I’m still upset to this day that I missed her wedding, but then again, every sailor has a similar story- and some are far more heart breaking.
In today’s case, there is no way that I could have been present to witness the birth of my godson. Still, the sentiment was similar.
See the juxtaposition of the two sides of the Portico d’Ottavia? One side reveals the original splendor, while the less aesthetically appealing portion reveals restoration attempt from years back Each side bears equal significance, even if you’d rather focus on the beautiful.
Again, two sides of the same coin.
You can’t have darkness without light, and without the bitter you won’t taste the sweet. I guess I want you to know that I don’t for one day believe that the life that I have chosen is superior in any way to anyone else’s. I am envious of everyone who gets to enjoy a life close to their family where they can be present for all significant occasions. I know that sooner rather than later I will meet my godson, just as sure that I will continue to travel and miss my family in doing so.
For now, the rest of my trip awaits.