How Did We Get Here?

I never imagined that Roger and I would take so many bus rides, in and around so many countries during our travels the last 4.5 years. And yet we have, and those bus rides have been short, long and everything in between. We've learned multiple bus systems from the UK to Greece, and even discovered our love, or maybe lack of love, for overnight journeys. It may have been the bus that rode on to the ferry when we were crossing the English Channel, or the coastline journey from Marseille to Genoa, that keeps us coming back for more. So this particular ride was a relatively short one from Palermo, across the mountains of Sicily on the way to visit extended family in Montallegro. Simply thinking of the journey my grandfather took over 100 years ago, had me asking the question, how did we get here and how has it actually shaped our lives, and more importantly, why we choose to live where we are now. 

Another day, another bus ride.

One last trip, from shore to shore, across the island of Sicily.

There are three mountain ranges on this seemingly small island, and as we once again traverse these mountains, I imagine the arduous journey my grandfather took from Montallegro to Palermo before he set sail for America in 1912.

Where there buses, or perhaps trains. The cars and highways of the future, were just not an option then. The journey to get to the port of Palermo may have been equally as harrowing as the ocean voyage he would soon take to New York.

Perhaps he booked passage on a small boat that took him around the island, as it would seem a quicker journey by far. Could it have been simply a horse and cart that crossed hundreds of miles to bring him to the port of Palermo?

It was also early April, the same time of year as our journey today, when he began his adventure 113 years ago.

A hundred years ago, were these olive groves thriving, and were these fields being planted for summer crops? Were the wineries cultivating the vines that would produce another year’s vintage?

What if my grandfather had never taken the chance to sail across the ocean, a decision that absolutely changed the future generations of our Grado family?

What would all of our lives look like now, the descendants of Pasquale, if he had never left this island in the middle of the sea?

Would we be farmers, or teachers, or artists, or even proprietors of shops in our own little towns?

I’m not sure where these thoughts come from, but they are no different than when I wonder how different my own life would have been if my parents hadn’t left the city of Brooklyn six short weeks after my birth to seek a life in the Connecticut countryside.

I would have grown up as a child of the city, surrounded by extended family members on every corner.

Instead, I was raised on a country road, surrounded by the sights of farms and cows, which you could smell long before coming to the end of the street where I took my first steps.

Would I have chosen the smell of Mother Nature and the sound of cows mooing in the fields, as opposed to the scent of the city trash cans at the curbside and the clattering of the garbage men filling their trucks as they rode down 7th Avenue in Bay Ridge?

Although many of us scattered across the country, it has not escaped my notice that we’ve all settled in coastal communities.

Perhaps we are drawn to it, or perhaps circumstances and happenstance simply led us to our various locations.

I only know that I’ve been drawn to the water my entire life and have always opted for life in a coastal community when allowed the free will to choose where I land and make my home, even if just a temporary one.

There's Always a Story