Epilogue—Back in the States: Where’d Turin go?

You will miss Turin.

You already do when the end is in sight.

You’ll miss the great piazzas—San Carlo, Castello, Vittorio. You’ll miss Parco Valentino, and you’ll miss the joyful difficulty of speaking Italian (however much you know) with the Torinese, who smile profusely and praise you for your impeccable language skills.

You’ll miss Via Genova, Via Nizza, and you’ll miss Via Roma and Via Garibaldi. You’ll miss the metro, and you’ll even miss the buses (okay, maybe not). You’ll surely miss Eataly.

You’ll miss the way Torinese window-shop. You’ll miss how frustrating the Torinese can be. You’ll miss how brash they can be. How smart they can be, clever. How funny they can be. How kind they can be.

You’ll miss the bar near your house, and you’ll miss the baristas more. You’ll miss the woman who dry-cleans your clothes. You’ll miss the family that sells you bread.

You’ll miss it all, but now it’s yours.