I woke up early yesterday, after having slept. I was still sleepy. It felt so normal I was actually happy.

Still rainy outside. I got myself up, got my stuff arranged, rearranged, and rearranged again. Finally ready to go.

It was about 8:30 but I headed across the street to the train station. I couldn’t find anywhere online that could tell me when exactly I needed to be on the train, what the process was, etc. So as an anxious traveler (who am I kidding, as a generally anxious person) I got myself there with an hour to spare.

I walk in to this massive space, walk to my concourse, and ask the attendant where I am supposed to be.

He looks at my ticket, looks at me, “eh…it’s about 50 minutes. Be somewhere in around here.” Basically what he was saying was “You crazy person, the train isn’t even here, you have an hour to stand around here and wait, and basically the train will be somewhere around here. Just look for it.” Got it.

No metal detectors, nobody checking my ticket, my passport, nothing. Just stand and wait.

I now understand people catch trains like 15 minutes before they are scheduled to leave the station. Good to know.

The train finally comes at about 9:15. I board, and take my seat. It leaves the station and I doze off. It’s a high speed train and I’ve chosen the quiet car. Good pick.

I wake up at some point to the Italian countryside. It’s so strange to me how “the country” is similar to what I see when I drive through “the country” at home. Houses out in the middle of nowhere, some nice, some not so much, trees, roads, power lines. That’s it really. But the cypress trees were a wonderful addition.

Some guy accidentally starts playing his music out loud–Moby. Ha, that’s awesome. I doze off again. When I wake up I put my airpods in and listen to Moby.

When I was in architecture school I would wake up very early on Saturday mornings to work in studio. It was my absolute favorite time of the week. I had the entire studio to myself. I would occasionally open the window next to me, keep the lights off, only have my drafting lights on. My headphones were always in. It was perfect. Almost a religious experience. It was my church. Every Saturday.

And I would listen to Moby a lot. A guilty pleasure. Honestly the best 90s electronic musician, in my humble, but correct, opinion. Moby, Feist, Grizzly Bear, Phantogram. Some of my studio jams.

I am happy riding this train and listening to Moby. I am feeling so good.

A text from a friend–“you do not need a lens to see the world.” He read my blog. An affirmation I needed. I forget about getting a new lens. And this song:

I arrive in Rome. Termini. Chaos. There are so many people everywhere. I decide I will walk to my hotel, about a 40 minute walk. Somehow that seems easier than finding a cab. And I’ve been walking everywhere, this will be fine.

I set out with a backpack the size of a second grader on my back and my laptop bag, which is maybe about the size of a two year old. This is all fine. If I don’t gain some muscle, what was the point of all of this anyway, right?

Wrong. So wrong. Way, very, extremely wrong. The streets are hilly and full of people. Clogged with people, slowly making their way through. Alleyways full of people with cars also trying to get through the crowd. I am an idiot.

I constantly readjust my bags until every possible place I put them hurts my body. I look down at my phone–thirty more minutes. A hill? Not flat like Milan. Cool. Up one hill, back down. Dammit, another hill, back down. I am really dumb. But I am committed (to what I don’t know), so I don’t stop for a cab.

I should also mention, in my anxious traveling state, I have not eaten. Or really had any water. Look down at my phone–twenty-five minutes to go. You have got to be kidding me.

I am sweating. And everything hurts. But I pull it together. I got it!

Finally I walk down a quiet street. My phone says I have arrived. But nothing but old buildings and large wooden doors. I go up to my building and push the button to be buzzed in. A nice lady finally lets me in to a dark entryway and takes me to a room to check in.

I am so happy to finally be here, but I am still holding everything. A mess. She very kindly pulls out a map and shows me where everything is in the city. Oh, thank you. Still holding my bags. She tells me I have already paid for my room online, but I still owe the city tax–€14. I pull out my card. No, do I have cash. Yes, I pull out €15. She walks away to find change. I am about to collapse. I almost tell her to keep the extra euro. She comes back and tells me to follow her. We are going to the third floor.

I back into the elevator so I will be able to get out once I get up there. It’s probably two and a half feet wide by maybe five feet deep. She waves to me as the doors close. Um…How do I get into the room?? She will take the stairs and meet me there. Somehow this feels like Wonka’s factory.

My apartment is so cute. I drop all of my things. Back out to find a small cafe for lunch and a glass of wine. Then back up to take a nap.

I came here for the Pantheon and I decide I can’t wait until tomorrow to go see it, so I set out to find it. Winding through the streets, I decide I’ll never be able to navigate this city.

Again, everything so picturesque it’s unbelievable. There is a huge part of me that doesn’t believe I am actually here, actually walking these streets, actually in Italy. And then another part of me that is trying to soak every bit of it in.

I stop for gelato. What is better than standing before the Pantheon with gelato?

I see it, it’s about to close for the day. So many people it’s hard to take it in. They close the doors and take up the ropes.

I walk up to it, touch the columns. Walk under the portico, running my fingers along the walls. How am I here right now?

I stand for a while, looking around at it all. I walk around the outside, the brickwork is incredible.

Ok, what’s next?

The Spanish Steps, let’s do that. Hit all the tourist attractions tonight.

I wind my way through the streets, thankful for my hiking boots I still have on with the cobblestones under my feet.

Ah, there they are. And somehow this feels so touristy I don’t even like it. I walk about three quarters of the way up then back down. Sorry, everyone who loves the Spanish Steps, I’m out.

To the Trevi Fountain! So many people here also, but it’s so beautiful, and big, and wonderful.

I walk up to it from the side and make my way to the front. How incredible. I want to walk down to the front, but the crowd is barely moving. I see down on one side where I can get to the water without going through the crowd.

Down some steps and I’m touching the water, looking at all of it. I decide I will wait for them to turn the lights on. I find a spot to sit and wait.

I watch everyone with their selfie sticks, because somehow having your face in the front of the picture makes it better. I watch a group of girls make a tiktok. It takes no less than seven tries. One of the most famous fountains in the world and people are taking pictures of their ice cream in front of it. Their ice cream in the shape of the Colosseum because how cute. I get so annoyed. Maybe I’m just old and grouchy. Or maybe I just want people to be more aware. To feel the weight of it all. This isn’t Disney World.

Anyway. I decide I’m hungry and I go find a restaurant. It’s in a rather touristy piazza. Oh well. I am seated outside near the entrance, a perfect spot for people watching.

An Aperol Spritz, mushroom risotto. Sure. It’s very tasty. Ah yes, I would love tiramisu.

A skinny guy with long hair sets up his amp and mic stand in the piazza and starts singing. Pink Floyd. Cool. I’m hoping for some of my other favorites. But turns out he’s just a one man Pink Floyd cover band. “Comfortably Numb.” Nice. And then “Wish You Were Here.”

What. Is. Happening. I just start weeping. I can’t help it. The guy comes over for me to pay. “Why you crying? You ok?” Yes, I’m totally fine, the food was perfect, I’m good. Grazie, ciao.

I can’t get back to my room fast enough. I don’t want to walk through the streets crying but I can’t really stop either. It just keeps coming. A pain in my chest. Tears running down my face.

I walk up the three flights of steps. I can’t breathe. I lay down on the bed and weep.

Maybe it’s Mothers’ Day tomorrow. Maybe it’s my friends’ 46th wedding anniversary tomorrow. Maybe it’s being away from home. Maybe it’s carrying that backpack too long today. Maybe it’s just a missing.

Grief can knock you off your feet when you least expect it. A process. Like everything else.

I remember telling my therapist last year, “I don’t know what’s wrong, I just feel sad even though I’m not sad about anything specific. I love the beginning of May. Everything has bloomed, it’s starting to get warmer, the days are longer. I always loved the end of the semester. Beginning of the summer. Memphis in May….Musicfest…Mothers’ Day….” I trailed off. She tells me, “You know your body remembers those things. Even though we may not be thinking about them, our bodies remember.”

I guess my body knows. I cry until I feel like I can’t, get up, take a shower, and go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day.

I slept in this morning. This bed is so much better than the other, even though it appears to be a pull out couch. The ceiling slopes and these ancient, painted wooden beams blend very well with the white painted ceiling when I don’t have my glasses on. I almost knocked myself out walking into one, so now I just walk around the place like Quasimodo, hunched over to avoid the beams.

I buy tickets to the Pantheon. I can’t wait to go inside. I grab some breakfast/lunch at a restaurant and make my way back to the Pantheon.

There are slightly fewer people today. The sun is out! Thankfully. I’m getting so tired of the rain clouds. They really harsh my vibe when they stick around too long.

I walk up and show my tickets. I walk through the enormous bronze doors. The coffered ceiling looks so perfect it almost doesn’t look real. Almost two thousand years and still absolutely perfect.

I walk over to get my audiotour. Each person gets an ipod and their own headphones. Keep the headphones, return the ipod when you are finished listening. Got it.

The headphones are in a little clear plastic ziploc bag. I tuck mine into my pocket. Some people throw them onto the ground. How do I know this? I accidentally step on one and the pop echos through the entirety of the space. Everyone gets quiet, looks around. I keep walking and pretend like I didn’t just scare every single person in the Pantheon. I do have a history with scooters and bubble wrap in the office….

I stop at every niche. The tomb of Raphael. The tomb of Vittorio Emanuelle II. The dome. The oculus. A guy leaning against the post for the guide ropes makes them move all the way down the line. Someone lets their baby run around screaming. Another guy taking a selfie in front of the tomb of Raphael. Can you all please stop for a second and feel the weight of where we are? Everyone who made this. Everyone who let it survive. Almost two thousand years old. Anyway. I’m being annoying. Annoying myself with being annoyed with everyone else. Stop being so serious all the time. Jeez, it’s exhausting. But honestly, this feels so special.

A friend checks in. We send a few jokes back and forth. Call Emily to check in. I go back to the room and take a nap. Lots of sleeping and eating and walking. In case you haven’t noticed.

When I wake up I decide I will walk to the Castel Sant’Angelo. Just across the Tiber River from where I’m staying. It’s closed today, but I want to walk around it. I start walking.

A storm or something is blowing through. The trees lining the sidewalk of the Tiber are moving violently in the wind. Branches fall on cars and the dust, pollen, something billows up from them in clouds. Everyone is rubbing their eyes. I sneeze so many times. My eyes are watering. Nope. Bad idea. Turning around.

I find a small restaurant for dinner.

“Ciao. Just a table for one, please.”

“Why?”

“Just a table for one…”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry…?”

“Why you alone?”

Listen man, if I knew the answer to that I wouldn’t be. Don’t ask me those questions, I’m fragile!

A lovely dinner. And a lovely call with a friend.

I made my way back to my room without using my phone to navigate. I did it.

Thinking about my mom today. And my grandmother. And my architecture mom. And my work mom. And my friends who fill in when I need them to. And my friends who are moms. And the mom friends who take care of everyone. And the dog moms. And all the women in my life who care for me and give me love. And everyone who’s missing their mom. I’d give anything for a mom hug today.

“Come and spread your arms if you really need a hug”