I’m a Mexican-American girl with an Italian soul.  I love everything about Italy – the food, the music, the food, the culture, the food, the art… did I mention the food?  There’s just something about this country that has a hold of my heart and apparently my stomach.

I’ve never been to Italy but every time I see pictures or video I feel like I’ve been there before.  Somehow the sights are familiar to me despite the fact I’ve never even been anywhere close to the Mediterranean Sea.  But I feel like if or when I go there that I’ll know exactly where to go and what to do.  More than likely it will involve visiting a gelato stand (or two) first.

My mom feels the same way about Hawaii.  She dreamt for a long time about going to the island – and once there, her inner GPS took over.  With very little help from a map, she was directing my dad around the island as though she had lived there all her life.  This is amazing considering she sometimes gets turned around while attempting to navigate through Southern California (where she actually has lived most of her life).

My mom knows about Hawaii what I know about Italy: it’s home.

Dorothy of Kansas once had the same feeling.  She dreamt about a place located somewhere over the rainbow where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops.  Though she’d never seen or heard of Oz, she knew there was something more beyond the very beige, hog-scented Kansan farm she called home.

In the movie, the thing that really sells Dorothy’s performance of “Over the Rainbow” is the longing in her voice.  She knows there are chores to be done and chickens to be fed, but she gives herself a timeout to think about what life could be like once she’s flown the coop… and yes, puns intended if there are any puns to be found.

While I don’t spend the majority of my time thinking about Italy, I do think about those places over my personal rainbow.  I’m not sure if I’ve met my future husband or not, but I miss him terribly.  I think about him every day and dream about what life will be like with him in it and what it’ll be like raising our family together.  In other words, he’s my home and I’m homesick for him.

I know that I fixate a lot on my dreams and the future in my blogs.  Truth is, writing about my dreams is the same thing Dorothy does when she’s singing about the rainbow: it’s a coping method we use to help keep the dream alive while trudging through our own versions of Kansas.

Life sometimes becomes too beige and reality (or in her case, Auntie Em) can nag at us that it’s (whatever “it” may be for you), is never going to happen.  Life will tell you that you’re never going to get married, have kids, own a home, have a career, or eat your way through Italy – it just likes to bully you that way.

However, the best way to stand up to the bully is to keep dreaming, keep believing, and, if you must, burst out in song.  I wouldn’t recommend bursting in song when confronted with an actual bully, but sometimes playing crazy is your best defense.  That’s just a little free advice for you.

You know what your “home” is.  Even while reading this you know who or what you’re homesick for.  The best thing I can tell you is to do whatever you can to keep hope alive.  Don’t let anyone steal what’s in your heart and try your hardest to believe that anything is possible.

I’m looking forward to reaching my home someday.  My yellow brick road is going to lead to some amazing people and places along the way – and that journey will definitely include a gondola ride with my sweetie and hitting up every gelato stand under the Tuscan sun.   It’s going to be a sweet, sweet time.  And in the words of my dear friend Dorothy, there truly is no place like home.