Sunday, December 5, 2010


I wish that the inanimate objects in all the places I have visited in the past could talk, because I am interested to hear if they remember me, the same way that I remember them. I never wished this more, than I wished it today at the Bull Dog Inn, where I used to go every day during my Rome Semester in 2008: The same place where I used to study for my Rome Through the Ages tests, where I used to live my mornings at—where I used to take my every cappuccino.

As I sat there, I wondered if the same bench I sat on would tell me that I seemed lighter, or that I should lay off the chocolate. I wondered if the espresso machine and milk steamer would yell in agreement at me for ordering a cappuccino after 10:00am, the way I often did back in 2008—though in myself defense, I never knew the rule until returning just a month ago. And I wondered if the coffee mugs would tell me that they remembered me as their favorite customer—as the girl who loved her cappuccino more than she loved buying leather boots.

I wondered if the tables would yell at me for placing too many things on top of it, if all the spoons that I stirred with would beg me to add sugar so that it was mixing more than just foam and espresso, if the walls would scream at me for not just taking in the moment instead of analyzing it with my video camera, digital camera, and my journal—if my atmosphere would enjoy me—as much as I enjoyed it.

And as I took a sip of the cappuccino that my barista had just stirred with espresso, a layer of chocolate, the fantastic foam, and second layer of chocolate, I wondered if when I left Rome, the Bull Dog Inn counted the days until I returned. I wondered if, today, it jumped with joy as I walked into the side door that I opened countless times in the past. And I wondered if, today, it remembered me as wonderfully as I remembered it…because I couldn’t stand for our relationship to ever be forgotten…I couldn’t stand for this relationship, this wonderful cappuccino union between person and coffee to be broken…because I couldn’t imagine life in Rome…without the Bulldog. And then I wonder…how cool would it be if Rome couldn’t imagine life without me.

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