When we got on the two-wagon train this morning, I didn’t think the day would go well. The platform was packed with people going to Siena and the train was so small people were standing in the aisles. I was one of the lucky ones seated with my beau at my feet. We got off a couple of stops before Siena at Poggibonsi to catch a bus to San Gimigniano. I hadn’t been back to visit this Tuscan hillside town in years and was eager to take my beau there.
It’s been a month since I’ve last come home to Florence. I visited a couple of beautiful places, but nothing ever compares to my beloved city. When my plane touched down, I couldn’t wait until I could walk down the airplane steps to finally breathe in my beloved city’s air.
Dates are important to me. I remember the dates of everything that is significant to me: births, deaths, and my arrival in Florence (both times). Today is Florence’s saint’s day, San Giovanni Battista (John the Baptist). It’s the one day I am usually in Florence because I get to celebrate my beloved city.
This evening as my plane flew over Tuscany with its plots of land divided into puzzle pieces of varying shades of green, I already felt the effect my beloved city has on me. I could almost smell the lush and fertile countryside surrounding Florence with its grass and cypress trees. After the hilly valley was a sea of light-colored buildings with terracotta rooftops. The sky was a little hazy, but the Duomo stood out and dominated the city.