In Italy it’s father’s day today. My brother just sent me a photo of him and my father. Just taken, I guess.
I hardly ever feel like this but now I don’t know why, I’m in the office with tears in my eyes because I can’t just go home for a few hours and have dinner with them and then go back to my life.
Even if it’s my personal choice to live far away from home. It’s not because I didn’t have a job in Italy. No one forces me to be here. No rhetoric of brain drain or economic migration. I am so happy where I live now. I am never alone and, even better, I am surrounded by lovely people and wonderful friends.
Every time I fly back to Italy I don’t really enjoy it, it’s always a hurry, the journey back and forth is long and sometimes stressful and I’m not used to living with my parents anymore and there is always something that prevents me from relaxing.
And what the hell, I’m so lucky, I can fly home every few months, not all my friends from other parts of the world can do that so often, some can’t go see their family at all.
And in spite of all this, I don’t know, but shit, I miss my family today.