Are We Emotionally Ready to Move to Italy? The Honest Answer

Are we emotionally ready to uproot our lives and move to another country?

I don't know. Yes. Maybe. I suppose.

Will I ever feel completely ready? Probably not. And I've started to wonder if waiting to feel ready is the wrong thing to wait for.

The weight of what we'd be leaving

The emotional part of this is sitting heavy on me right now, and I know exactly why. My parents are elderly, though remarkably capable and full of life, and I worry about them. I also worry because my sister is terminally ill, and I carry a quiet fear about what losing her might do to them. That part of this equation doesn't have a clean answer. It just sits there.

And yet, when I ask myself the harder question, why wouldn't I be emotionally ready to go, the list gets shorter. Tom will be with me. Our dogs and cats will be with us. Wherever that combination exists is home to me. Most people in our lives travel and would come visit us in Italy. That's not nothing.

Would I miss the States? Honestly, probably not. I don't miss it when we travel. I miss my animals more than anything.

Why this place never fully felt like mine

I've spent a lot of time trying to understand why I don't feel deeply attached to the area where we live. I think it traces back to the fact that neither side of my family has deep roots here. My dad's parents arrived in the 1950s. My maternal side came in the 1920s. By the standards of where we live, that makes us newcomers.

Where we live is the kind of place where lineage matters. People still ask whether your family has been here for generations. And if the answer is no, you're an outsider. I heard that message throughout my entire childhood and adolescence, and when something is repeated to you often enough, you start to believe it. So while I like this area, I don't feel a pull to stay. There isn't much here insisting that I do.

The creature comforts I'll miss

I'm fully aware there are things I'll discover I miss once we're actually there. Most of them, I suspect, will be creature comforts rather than anything deeper.

Case in point: I cannot stand espresso. I want a regular cup of drip coffee. Not a Moka pot, not a percolator, not a cappuccino, not a shot of anything. Just a plain American cup of coffee. I know, I know. I can bring a drip coffee maker. It will be fine.

Beyond the coffee, yes, there will be a list of things to adjust to and behaviors to modify. But isn't that the whole point? I want to grow. I want to become more aware that the United States is not the center of the universe, even though that's been the underlying message of our education from day one. There is so much history, architecture, culture and identity out there in the world. If we get to experience even a fraction of it, I think we come back, or move forward, as better people.

That feels worth a little discomfort.