this past weekend i had a dream about being in italy. i believe i was there with family, at the very least i recall being there with my son. anyway, i was there visiting relatives. i was with an uncle of mine, who had immigrated to the US in his early 20's and has lived hear for another 20, and who was back there living in italy again. he was showing me his place and urging me to stay there for an extended period of time... like a month. his house was a nice villa on a farm, with all the typical imagery- bathed in soft golden light; bales of hay; bunches of grapes; hand-made pasta; fresh olives and tomatoes; beautiful marble floors; comfortabe, simple, wooden furniture; balconies overlooking farm valleys. all these things i saw on my trip to italy. we spent one long day on a train, riding from rome to florence. we accidentally ended up on a "local" train, which made all the stops. in retrospect, it was nice. we got to stop and see many small towns on the way, rather than speeding past them all. beautiful fields of gain, one amazing sunflower field. anyway, i wanted to stay, i wanted to raise my son there, in such a rich, natural setting. i was torn, i felt the urgency of life at home- nagging me. it was the embodiment of my longing for a simpler life- an invitation from a welcoming, generous relative to whisk my family away to an idyllic, pastoral life. i don't think i'm explaining it very well, but whatever.