Rome is charming. It has been so long since I came here. I am twenty years old and a university student. I am studying history, my favorite subject.
I was born in Rome, but my parents decided to go to the United States for job opportunities. My maternal grandmother stayed behind. I can’t blame her; I would probably feel the same thing.
My grandmother and I grew very close. I am her only grandchild. I have been told that I looked like my grandmother when she was younger.
When I was a child, I remember that she and I would have little picnics on the hills and the stories she would tell me. The stories were usually about mythology, which I truly enjoyed. My grandmother was a motivator for me to study history.
For four years, I didn’t visit because I had to work and go to school. Now I have the opportunity to visit my grandmother and Rome.
I got out of the airport, rented a car, and am now driving to the village where my grandmother lives. Not much has changed, and I am happy about that. I went by many grassy hills, mountains, little cities, and other villages. My grandmother’s village is old, and she said that it dates back to the tenth century. I like the fact that people live in such an essential piece of history.
About an hour later, I got to the trail that led to my grandmother’s village. The road is filled with dirt and rocks, but I don’t mind. As I went through the path, I got to the village. The village is filled with houses made of wood, but the wood looks new and robust. A few older people are seen sitting outside their homes or speaking with one another. Usually, there are more elderly than young people, but there are a decent amount of people. I drove through many homes, but I got to a particular house that I knew. I parked and got off. I slowly walked towards the house, and before I got to the door, the door opened.
It was my grandmother.