I'm turning 21 tomorrow and it's overwhelming me with emotion. A rather significant birthday in the United States for implied reasons, here it is not. Tomorrow, Sunday, June 14th will be a traditional day in Italy. Families will go to church and do the grocery shopping. Tourists will line the streets taking selfies with monuments and-for lack of a better pun-ROME-ing around. Tomorrow there will be a mass just around the corner from our apartment, and the smells of pizza, pasta carbonara, and gelato will fill the air. Just a traditional day in Italy.
Sitting here on my balcony, listening to the hustle and bustle of the streets outside and seeing families hang their laundry on the drying rack, I cannot help but think of a moment two years ago that changed my life forever. It was a typical Friday at Camp Seafarer. My starter campers had just left to go home and my counselor team and I unpacked in the cabin that we would call home for the next four weeks. Driving to my overnight off, I kept thinking to myself how insignificant the 19th birthday really is. 18, and you are legal. 20, you count down to really being legal. And 21, well, there really are no words to explain 21. I guess I can also say that because it will only be a few more hours until I can say so myself. But, 19. That afternoon I had had the opportunity to "run the mess hall" and share a birthday cake with my friends, and really experience an atmosphere that felt like home. Not long after I arrived at the house, my cousin pulled in behind me and we talked about where we would want to spend my birthday dinner. A couple of thoughts ran through our heads before deciding to go M&M's, a cafe just near where we were staying and a popular restaurant with families coming into town to drop their children off for camp that weekend. We sat on the outer porch and took in the view, sailboats and motorboats passing by a most beautiful sunset. The waitress came by with an ice cream sundae larger than anything I would have expected, and she led the wait staff in singing happy birthday to me. We were sitting around for a while after that, looking for the waitress who had taken care of us that night, as it was getting dark and the roads in the area were not the best lit. When my cousin waved her down, she looked at us and smiled. "Did you enjoy your food?" she asked. We nodded in agreement. "Well, great" she replied, "I wanted to let you know that that kind family across the restaurant asked to pick up your check for the evening. I hope you had a happy birthday." We looked at each other in shock and walked to the family in the back, thanking them for their kind action. As it turns out, the family recognized us as Sea Gull & Seafarer counselors on our night off, as they had known our parents. When the waitress told them it was my birthday, they selflessly asked to pay for our meal as a way to pay gratitude for the hard work we put in as staff members. Neither my cousin nor I had ever been so speechless for such a long period of time after that. I don't remember what I got for my birthday that year, who wished me happy birthday on facebook, what I ordered for dinner that night, or what even made us decide to go there in the first place. All I can remember is that kind camp family who wanted to pay respect and gratitude that hot 14th night in June.
Tomorrow I am turning 21 in Rome. I will not be going to Coconut Grove with my friends or doing something one might deem as "wild," "reckless," or "crazy." No, tomorrow I will bask in the joy of the beautiful city that is Rome. I might attempt to do 21 things, try 21 scoops of gelato or 21 slices of pizza. Who knows. A significant American birthday may not be significant here in Rome, but celebrating it here makes all the difference. Tonight will bring in cheers to 21 years, and many great more to come.
Addio bella & buon cumpleano.
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