The days are countable until I leave Sicily. It's the weirdest feeling in the world. I have a life here. I have friends. A cell-phone bill. I know the city. I have a job. I have contacts. I am not a tourist. I was never a tourist.

I think that I was Sicilian at birth...I just didn't know it until this year. I mean, really. I feel more "in place" here then I ever did back in Georgia. Don't get me wrong, I love my Georgia...I am a peach. This is for sure...but, like Momma always said, I was born with my bags packed. It's just hard for me to believe that I am going to leave here and never come back...

Maybe it's the laid back attitude. Or the importance of family and friends. The willingness to help someone you barely know. Or the idea that every person you meet, you introduce yourself with a handshake, but you say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. Friends are made so very quickly. Doors are always open. There's always a ride to get to where you need to go (everyone understands the buses are worthless).

There's always a smile, always someone who tries to understand. They are fascinated by my life and my story...and I love to tell it to them. The laughter here is seriously intoxicating because you know it comes from the heart.

All of these good things outshine the trash on the street and the crazy drivers and the fact that nothing in this city every works consistantly...but to me, these aren't exactly negative. They all add to the flavor of the island. If there weren't all these annoyances, what would we have to talk and laugh about??

I have never felt so attached to a group of people that I have known for so little time...but, my heart is seriously breaking in two. There will be a Sicily shaped hole in my heart when that plane leaves the runway on July 16th.

But I have 17 days. Seventeen days to say goodbye to the crystal blue sea. To say goodbye to the mountains I see outside my window. To give my last kisses on the cheeks of my Italian mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. Seventeen days to walk these streets and take in all the sights of the laundry hanging from the balchony, and the smell of the fish markets, fresh fruits and vegetables. To feel the sands of Mondello beach beneath my feet, and hear the sounds of Sicilian phrases and that intoxicating laughter I was telling you about...

Oh, I'm going to miss it so, but I don't think that Sicily will ever be far from me...It's not just a place I'll carry home in a picture frame. If anything, it's embedded in my heart. They say that Sicilians never forget...I hope they never will forget me.