Abstract: maybe this post is the side effect of a sandwich eaten in roadside restaurants along with a 5 hour drive, so take what is written below with caution.
From about an hour I came back from a few days spent on snow. I removed the
stuff from the suitcase, put dirty clothes to wash, put clean ones in their place. Everything seems to have a home but me.
always like when I get back from a vacation, whether it is lasting a weekend or a month.
When I moved away from home I lose track of time and me. If I go to the mountains this feeling becomes even stronger in the mountains just because I relax completely, I create a niche of my own, I count the roles that I play.
the morning breakfast, then on the ski slopes. Packed in a rifugino on the track. Return home at sunset. I take off my boots, I support the skis and finally home. Aroma of wooden walls. I do a nice relaxing bath, and comfortable clothes and a book lying on the sofa bed. Out of the silence of the woods. There is nowhere I feel more protected. Today
from the earliest hour drive was starting to fear the return, because now I know, I know that anguish that seizes me when I arrive at the exit Pistoia, unchanged when meeting my city waiting for me. It 's been a century or a day? I can not say.
Yet I know that everything is over, I have to go back to being myself.
Thank heaven to find the dog crossing the threshold that makes me the holidays. Without him everything would be much more difficult. Around
everything about me, or at least what I was up to my departure, that I have to go back to being. My bed redone with the pajamas under the pillow. The photos on the bedside table: I was a child, I with my friends, I with Loris, I graduated. A post-it notes hanging on a door of a cabinet reminds me of the appointment with the dietitian: Friday at 9 and 30. Photocopies to study for a competition. Unpack and know I did not escape. I wear flip flops and open your PC. Look for it to load, then I'll check my mail to see if there is no news from work. While we are also monitoring the site of the town of Prato, to see if it came out interesting new contests.
And now? what will become of me? I will be back up to support this? I do not have much choice, I have to sit back down in place that was assigned to me in life. There are no more snow, long trails in the woods, boots, a warm bath. The same book I read in the attic smell of wood from the bed of my room tells a different story. Riuscrò to pick up the thread?
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