See Lola Run

An Italian-American citizen who is not very much of either but lives in Rome, anyway, and is not really sure where she's going next or if she's going at all.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Home.

So driving up along Villa Borghese at about 10 p.m. last night, it's dark and it's green and the sky is blue-ing between the naked trunks of the cyprus trees and i'm sitting in the passenger seat of Jac's still new-smelling Ford Fiesta... and i'm not knowing exactly where he's driving me yet but given that it's Sunday and that it's the end of the weekend -- I get that he's driving towards home -- my home -- my 20 sq meter white walled room with my plants and my balcony and my old wood armoire, my empty room, my cat-less room, my jac-less room ... because we've been together since Friday night and that's what you do when you've been together since Friday night -- but I can't help myself and I ask "Dove andiamo?" (Where are we going). He repeats my question with a silly voice -- because it's a silly question -- I know -- and then tells me that Good Kids go to BED at this hour, they go home, they get under the covers -- but my covers haven't been slept in for a while and I think of the empty room and I say "Oh" and sit in silence for a minute or so before saying "Posso dormire con te stanotte?" (Can I sleep by you tonight?) And he responds with a quick sharp and joking "NO" but then asks if I really, really want to and with the voice of a 3 year old I mutter a vulnerable "Si"... and we make a quick turn and soon we are heading north, heading home, his home, our home, where Flip, our cat, is curled up on the couch waiting for us -- that familiar black Ikea couch and that TV I hate so much and the table where we eat together -- and his room, our bed, and sheets that have that wrinkly warm slept in look to them -- and there's Him and so it's even warmer than just that and I think how sad the night can be when he's not there and how unnatural it feels to think of heading somewhere else where he isn't and i'm glad I don't always have to go somewhere else and hopeful one day I won't ever have to go somewhere else ... it's possible that i've found home --- in that cat, in those sheets, on that couch and in that glass-topped table --- but most of all... in him.

Related Posts:
See Lola Run: Windows on the World
See Lola Run: The Problem with Goodbye

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