I remember many years ago saying to my fav paisano shrink, “one day I’ll realize I’ve been wearing the ruby slippers. I’ve had the power all along.” He concurred. Today, I glance down and still just see the french pedi and messed up feet from all my surgeries. I spy flip flops, but no ruby slippers. I have no magic answer. I can’t click my heels and get home to Boston, or experience the feelings of the old hood.
My family, extended family and friends are my tribe. We share similar food, clothing, language, history and geography, which are the characteristics of a tribe. Our traditions and way of life were embedded into my heart and soul. For me home is being wrapped up in a Red Sox snuggie on a cold rainy day watching The Godfather Saga. Nobody cares how much I weigh, what designer I have on my back or the nip tuck factor. Does anyone give a shit that I wrote a book: “good for you, Steph. How’s that going?” In fact, you would think they could not care less that I’ve been gone for twenty years. It’s like I never left. The conversation rolls on as if I had been sitting at the table with my coffee and biscotti since 1982.
The aroma of olive oil, garlic and red wine bring peace to my anxious soul. I am one of them. I belong. They love me and have my back. The familiarity of the day to day, the crack up at the Boston personalities and the brutally honest ball breaking makes going home a coveted event for me.
I have not been home since last September. I’m chomping at the bit. Next week cannot come soon enough. I feel like the lost sheep looking for her fold. I don’t have the ruby slippers, but I do know: “there’s no place like home.”
Tell me what’s going on in your life. I want to hear from you!
Wishing you love, balance and peace!
Amore & Baci (love & kisses),
Just Steph
