Who is that woman I see...staring back at me?

A puddle, a mirror, and glass windows at night all have one thing in common: When you look into them, you see

yourself…your physical self at least. When you look into a cappuccino, you see foam. But not this morning. This morning when I looked into my final cappuccino of 2011, I saw a reflection of memories and moments of 365 days of laughter, of tears, of smiles, of joys, of sadness—365 days of life—365 days of Me.

Many people will say that you are a man or a woman when you hit 18—that you have suddenly gone from being a teenager to a well-mannered adult who should be treated like one. Girls and boys are now used as terms to describe children, and man and woman are words that now describe you or your friend.

But I don’t think I really considered myself grown up—I don’t think I really considered the reflection I saw to be a woman—as opposed to a girl—until this year—until I really felt as though I grew up.

Over the course of the year, I made a grown-up decision to return to the states as my wallet grew thinner and my ambition expanded. I beat bouts of anxiety and downward excitement with conversation and coffee. I defeated dismal days of dread with an optimistic outlook. And I challenged myself beyond belief.

I made family a priority.

I kept my best friends--the best friends in the entire world.

I made new friends.

I found a family of comradery in a world full of comedy.

I discovered that the city is lonely til you reach out and make it not so lonely.

I learned that people here will support you as you unconditionally support them, and that giving a lot, means receiving a lot more.

I forged a friendship with several inspirational mentors who I never struggled to let criticize and push me towards my goals and my dreams.

I released those from my life that were creating a negative film over my perspectives and I made my own decisions.

I reconnected with those that I had lost touch with days, months, years ago; who once were a large part of my life, but had since been lost due to distance and time.

I kept in touch with those that I left just over a year ago to tackle my trembling fear that I would never return to Italy.

I let people in.

And I let me…know me. I smiled. I laughed. I cried. I joked. I stumbled. I stood.

And in the foam of this beautiful and delightful fragile cappuccino…I reflect. And I think “Looking pretty good Libs…Looking pretty great.”

Here’s to 2011…and Here’s to 2012—a year of excitement.

"For me, I like"

I’ve mentioned this before. I tend to move around as often as I change my shoes, and since I bought new boots just three days ago, it seems only fitting that I have moved on to Rome as of this morning.

It’s nearly been one month since I have arrived in Italy. It has nearly been one month since I have had a Dunkin Donuts coffee, since I have driven a car, and since I have had the convenience of things like Walmart, CVS, and Walgreens. It has nearly been one month since I embarked on my new adventure. It has nearly been one month since I made the best decision of my life, in getting on the plane to return to Italy--my home. The other day our teachers sat us down and said. “Let’s talk about what you will take with you as life skills from this course…How have you changed?”

I looked around the room as one of my peers began to speak. He spoke of many of the things that we discussed at our Thanksgiving Feast—how family can be anywhere, how home can be anywhere. I then raised my hand and spoke from a personal level… "Every experience is a new one.”

I may be putting myself out there a bit in this entry, but I think sometimes it’s really important that we do that, that we let people know our past, and how that has effected our present.

I told the class that I had learned that we could experience a place we have lived in, breathed in, and loved in before, in a totally and completely different way a second time around, that no two experiences are the same, and that there is always something new worth exploring in a place that you truly believed you have conquered.

I didn’t dive into too much more with the class time, but I think it’s important that we go into each new experience with an open heart and an open mind. A problem that I have had since I was a kid is that I often try too hard and become a bit overwhelming at times. My mom will tell you that when I get an idea in my head, she’ll have to shhsh me and tell me to take a minute to fixate on something else. It is something I have never been able to shake.

So when I first returned to Florence four weeks ago, I had this idea in my head that I knew Florence and everything that had to be done again and how to do everything and how to really be the queen of Florence. God, was I wrong. But I am glad I was. Because if I had experienced Florence the way I had before—if I had experienced Florence and had overwhelmingly been able to have others experience Florence in the ways that I did before, I wouldn’t have fallen head over heals with all the parts of the city that did this time, I wouldn’t have really experienced Florence, now two years later, in it’s whole. I wouldn’t have truly made the best of every moment.

As I finished up my short speel on my experiences to the class and explained how I had never taken the opportunity to go to the Bobali Gardens or Piazzale Michelangelo before, my teacher looked at me with a confused look, “What the hell did you do here before,” is what she was really asking me. And while I used the excuse that I had only been in Florence three weeks before—for orientation of a semester in Rome—I thought to myself, “My gosh, what the hell did I do here before…” And suddenly it didn’t matter, because I had just experienced one of the two best Novembers of my life without reservation, without hesitation, without regret. I had just lived in the present…I suddenly didn’t need the past to be my reason for my returning. Just being here and having new experiences was now my reason…Just living in the moment was now my reason—and it was now the perfect reason.