little slumps

Sometimes in life we find ourselves in situations that are quite 'foreign' to us. This has happened to me a couple of times and each time I seem to make it through. That's what gives me hope that I can make it through just about anything.

There was this one time when I was waiting on a friend to meet me in Rome to begin that once in a lifetime adventure I have mentioned many times before. She was coming the next morning, my other friends had left 3 days before and so I was in a foreign country without anyone I knew. Now,there are shabbier places to be than in Rome in this situation,but when you feel alone,you feel alone wherever you are.

So I got back to Rome late at night from another adventure. I found myself without a hotel and without a friend to commiserate with. So I moped for a few minutes,got homesick for a few more, then gave myself a pep talk and ventured into the Termini 'information desk.' to try and help myself. To say there was a language barrier is putting very nicely the fact that 'there was no communication between the 'night helpers' and myself. NONE. WHATSOEVER. So I ended up in a sketchy part of Rome by myself in a hotel.(is there a sketchy part of Rome? apparently so!) Actually in the daylight it didn't seem so sketchy-which,as I've mentioned before-many places and situations look different with the morning light. I checked in around 10 and figured out that I was STARVING. Not the kind of hunger you can sleep off, the kind that growls at you until you find something to put in your stomach. Hey,I was in Italy-no need to skip meals. So I got dressed and then I cried. I don't know why. My very best friend was coming the next day. I was in ROME. But I just wanted HOME. I wanted my dad to act like I was the most important thing on earth(which happens at home),I wanted my mom to scratch my back and cook me dinner. I wanted my brothers to tease me. I just wanted HOME. Again, the peptalk. So I made myself leave my room with red,splotchy eyes nonetheless. I ran into a woman in the ever so sketchy European elevator in that hotel. She could tell I was upset, and she could tell I was American. Just my luck. So was she. We talked for a minute,I explained why I was upset and she insisted on taking me to dinner. Now,there are people-MOM FOR ONE-that would say that you can't just haul off in a foreign country to dinner with someone you don't know. She was a woman that happened to be about 20 years older than me at the time and call it woman's intuition...I just trusted her.

So I followed her out of the elevator,out of the hotel, and into the nearest trattoria. She talked to me about my where I was from,what I was doing here, and why on earth I was crying in Rome,Italy. For that night, and that meal she provided comfort. She listened like I was the most important person to her at the moment and she fed me. What more could I ask for? By the end of the dinner we were laughing together and talking about celebrities. fast friends. After this was all over, we walked back, said goodnight,I thanked her and I've never heard from her again.

But I can't forget her. Because I remember how sad I felt that night. I remember how homesick I was and then I remember that she changed that. Just by being there. By listening. and by being hospitable to me.

These are the stories from my Italian adventure that I don't share with many people. Why? Because I'm Mary. I'm strong,independent and I am happy all the time. I don't need to be comforted. Oh,but I do. Everyone does.

Well,I found myself in this particular situation again a couple of weeks ago. I ended up at my cousins this time. And she did the same things. She comforted me,gave me food,a place to sleep and an eager listening ear. I'd like to say I woke up that next morning feeling much,much better-but truth is-I didn't.

I wanted my mom. I wanted my dad. My dog. My brothers. My couch at home. And my younger years when I had them all around me assuring me I was gonna be just fine. Because I will. This is only a little slump. And they can't be here. I'm 26. we're spread out. And though I know that my parents would drive down here tonite if I really needed them to-I don't really need them to. Because I have a family here. And I think it takes situations like this to realize that I do. Maybe they didn't birth me. Or maybe they don't tell me they love me all the time like my parents do-but I know that they do. These people would and actually do anything for me.

They invite me into their homes for dinner. They invite me to do fun things. They call to check on me. They give me hugs. They buy me toilet paper. They take care of me when I'm not feeling well. They pray with me and for me. They are there. Through the happy times and the down times. And if I'm just 'strong' enough to show them my red,splotchy 'marys not so happy right now' face-then they step right up to the plate. The hardest part for me is just being vulnerable enough to let that side show.

But once I do,it's like...indescribable. This family of friends I've got here just steps right up to the plate. By making me laugh,letting me cry,taking me out,and just being around. Or not around. Whatever I prefer. They are my 'people.' And my people are good. good people.

So,I'm feeling better now,I'm out of my little slump...for now. But when it comes around again and I know that it will-I will also know that my blood family and my friend family are right here waiting to step up and lead me back into my happy pants!