All Journeys End

Alone in the apartment I stare out the window. The lion head fountain across the street reminds me of the solitary walk I did to the Trevi Fountain only a couple nights before. I’m sitting on a railing in the center so that I have a wide angle view of the fountain. The anticipated lights are out shimmering a tinted blue. I try to focus on the artwork before me as I stare at the sculpture of the chiseled muscles of Poseidon and his loyal dolphins, but my view is obstructed frequently by couples trying to take photos of themselves. After giving up on any reflective pondering, I reach in my pocket for the three coins I’d been saving. I squeeze my way to the front edge of the fountain and look into the water of wishes that were made. Then with a deep breath and eyes closed, I turn around throwing one coin into the fountain at a time. With each toss I thank Rome for giving me something special. 

A strong breeze shakes the window shutters against the building and I’m again back in the apartment. The lights of the fountain fade away and the crowds become whispers overheard from the restaurant below. I hug my jacket closer to my body shivering as I stare downwards watching people walk pass. Some stroll in pairs chatting to their friends, others are alone with grocery bags in hand. The sunlight has now seeped its way above the buildings and treetops, reminding me the day has started and I must leave soon. I turn my head around nostalgically staring at the entryway, hoping that my friends will walk in and share stories of their day. Instead there are 5 keys on the wooden dining table, sheets are stripped from beds, and pots are back in cupboards. The life that filled these rooms are only evident from the dusts that’s collected in corners and an unfinished bottle of cooking oil that was barely touched.

I then proceed to close all the windows and shutters giving the apartment one last check to see that things are in order. I can no longer hear the wind or strangers moving about, making everything feel of darkness. I put my back-pack on and grab my suitcase that’s been packed and ready in the hallway. I walk towards the elevator thinking how Rome will be remembered in the conversations I had, the sounds I heard, and in the lights I saw from sunrises to sunsets. This journey must end so that another can begin.