Nantucket is not quite Ponza or L’ultima spiaggia, but it doesn’t have to be. Pian piano, we are learning how to love life (and not just work hard) in the United States. Decided after our weekend away to try for a Nantuckey weekend at least once a month — no work, no plans, just hang out. It doesn’t have to mean going away or spending lots of money, but it does mean vacating.

It’s a cliche to say that the US lifestyle is so busy and we’re all workaholics here, but it’s true. I guess the surprise for me, coming back home, is that I’m really busy here because work is really exciting: everything seems possible, the people around me are awake and inspired, it’s easy to get caught up in the race because meritocracy is actually a great American skill.

But I miss empty afternoons of chatting with the pizza guy about why his arancini are better than the next guy’s, I miss meeting people in La Caffarella dog park and then actually inviting them home to lunch on the fly (now I hardly call my best friends!), I miss the kind of empty space that I could fill up with people — new people, people I didn’t even intend to stay in touch with very long. I miss the luxury of making acquaintances.

I wonder how long this feeling of alien homecoming will last, when it will be that Rome was just a chapter and no longer my punto di riferimento, my comparison point for what life should feel like.