Amore mio 2

70.

Martina's P.O.V.

As June unfolded its warm embrace, I found myself caught in the gentle whirlwind of summer. The days slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, leaving behind a trail of cherished memories. 

Home was the epicentre of my universe during these fleeting months, a cocoon where time seemed to slow down, allowing me to savour every precious moment before the impending journey to university. 

In the comforting embrace of my family, I revelled in one-on-one time with papà, the core of our lively household, whose wisdom and warmth never failed to guide me. Mamma, with her nurturing, loving presence and soothing words, added a sprinkle of love to every shared girls-only night and all laughter-filled evenings. My little siblings, bundles of energy and innocence, became my constant companions, filling the house with joy and playfulness.

Mid-June marked the beginning of a bittersweet countdown, as the awareness of the approaching departure for university lingered in the background. Yet, I embraced the present, determined to make the most of each fleeting day. As the sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, I embarked on a journey to Madrid, a city pulsating with the echoes of family history. There, amidst the lively conversations of my grandparents and the familiar laughter of uncles, I discovered the roots that anchored me, grounding me in a sense of belonging.

The weeks unfolded like chapters in a novel, each page filled with the richness of shared stories and shared meals. I wandered through the vibrant streets of Madrid, soaking in the culture that resonated with the tapestry of my heritage. 

And as the days melded into August, I couldn't ignore the subtle melancholy that accompanied the anticipation of departure. The walls of my childhood home held within them countless memories, and the prospect of leaving them behind for an extended period tugged at my heart.

Yet, beneath the surface of nostalgia, a current of excitement surged. The new chapter awaiting me at university beckoned like an unexplored adventure. The prospect of growth, learning, and forging new connections filled me with undeniable happiness. 

So, as summer unfolded and the clock ticked relentlessly, I embraced the dichotomy of emotions – a little sadness for the impending farewell, but an overwhelming joy and eagerness to step into the unknown, where a new chapter of my life eagerly awaited.

Today was August 20th - the day Nic and I left for England. 

The weight of this day overwhelmed me in ways I could not describe. 

I swept my gaze across the room, and a surge of emotion welled up in my green eyes. Tears threatened to spill as the weight of impending departure settled heavily in my heart. The mere thought of packing my belongings echoed with a sense of loss, transforming my once familiar haven into something so bare and empty. 

The reality of the intense and eventful program ahead hit me – a frequency of homecomings reduced to once a month, rarer once the exams would start. Despite the rationality of the decision, the act of packing remained an insurmountable hurdle. Each item in my room held a story, a connection that seemed impossible to sever.

My favourite vase, a gift from papà when I was just a baby, had always graced my nightstand, a constant home for fresh flowers – a tradition my father faithfully upheld throughout my life. A little basket, replenished every Friday by mamma, housed an array of beauty products—an integral part of our weekly beauty nights, shared with my sisters and mamma. Framed photographs adorned every single available surface – a mosaic of memories capturing moments with family, my boyfriend, beloved pets, and dear friends.  

My closet, a labyrinth of beautiful clothes, concealed a sacred space within it. Dozens of drawers and racks held my baby clothes – the first onesie and swaddle, the cherished pink dress that I wore almost daily, the yellow dress from my first father-daughter dance in pre-school, and my favourite spotted silk pyjamas worn until I outgrew them and numerous other priceless garments. Each piece held sentimental value, a tangible link to my past.