Photo: Celia Marszal- Iannelli

I love my bed! There — I’ve said it to the world. An exaggeration? OK, well, at least to the folks who read this publication which may be the world. Who knows?

After returning home from a three-week wonder-filled trip to Italy with Luca and my family (notice my grandson Luca gets top billing), I was knocked sideways by the “bed” revelation.

If you frequent social media, you may already know about my trip. I had pictures of Luca, my family and travels plastered all over Facebook and Instagram. If I could afford to take out an ad in the New York Times, I would have.

My nephew getting married on the Amalfi Coast inspired the trip. After much deliberation, my family decided not only to attend the wedding but to make an adventure out of it — and I love adventures. If I was going to “break the bank,” I would have a blast doing so.

And I did on both counts.

I won’t bore you with a “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” column. There were frequent magical moments as well as abundant eye candy. Italy is indisputably the land of the beautiful things: beautiful landscapes, cities, cuisine, fashion, people and language.

My dad lived in Palermo as a boy. For this reason, I felt drawn to the city. As I retraced his steps, I could almost feel his presence. On the other hand, perhaps my feelings were related to heat exhaustion. I retraced his steps in temperatures that topped 100 degrees.

What kind of adventure would it be, if the travel gods didn’t turn on us? Or was it Montezuma’s revenge? Nah — let’s go with the travel gods. We were too far from Mexico for Montezuma to catch up with us.

My two sons, one daughter-in-law and yours truly were invaded by tiny microbes that played havoc with our digestive track. Those pesky invisible microbes pulled a sneak attack when we least expected it.

Folks, you know what that entailed. The bagnos (bathroom) became our best friend. (I quickly learned the word “bagnos” while my body was under siege.) However, we didn’t miss a step or connection.

We traveled extensively and changed accommodations frequently. My great adventure turned out to be all that I had hoped for and more.

Upon returning home I was beset with surprising emotions. When I glimpsed my bed for the first time in three weeks, I threw myself down onto it and declared to no one “I love my bed!”

Next stop was my bathroom. My eyes took in the familiar room with jars of age-defying creams, lipsticks, eye shadows, blushes, and other “essential” cosmetics. There again, I felt an extraordinary love and gratitude for my bathroom. However, I did love the bagno that I frequented during the night of my microbe invasion. I even hugged the bowl!

As I surveyed the rooms, I fell in love with my house all over again. I touched my special things and knew that the sacrifices (taxes for one), that I make to live here are worth my efforts.

I left my packed suitcase in the hallway and walked down to the beach. It was a quiet evening with not a soul in sight. Sure, it was not the Amalfi coast, but it was my own “paradise found.” I sat on my “special” bench contemplating my homecoming.

I know folks who experience post-vacation blues. I experienced the opposite. I felt immense gratitude for the things I had taken for granted and for all that I forgot are gifts.

Another revelation: Our ordinary life is amazing, really! Of course, there are times it’s awful, mundane and routine. I took a second look at the ordinary. I wondered how those who complain about the ordinary would feel if “poof” it disappeared? Life is fickle. My ordinary life disappeared twice.

I loved being away; but I loved coming back. Home is where the heart is. Singer songwriters Simon and Garfunkel agree. Their hit song “Keep the Customer Satisfied” begins with this lyric:

“Gee but it’s great to be back home, home is where I want to be, I’ve been on the road so long my friends and if you came along, I know you couldn’t disagree.”

Of course, this column speaks to where I am now. It’s all well and good —that is, until I plan my next great adventure!

This story is free to read thanks in part to the generous support of readers like you. Keep local news free. Become a member today.

SHARE
Celia Marszal-Iannelli
Celia Iannelli is a native New Yorker enjoying a second career — in 'retirement' — as a freelance writer. She lives in Jamesport.