My "UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN " Moment in Sicily

I have watched Under the Tuscan Sun more times than I probably care to admit. It has always been one of those movies that I can return to whenever I need a little escape.

There is something about the story that has always stayed with me. Frances leaves behind a life that no longer feels like her own, travels to Italy, unexpectedly falls in love with an old villa, and begins restoring not only the house, but herself.

I think that's what has always drawn me to the movie. It's not really the villa or even Italy. It's the idea that sometimes we dream about walking away from the life we know and finding a place where we can begin again.

So imagine my reaction when, years later, I was actually in Italy.

I was sitting on a tour bus with my daughter, traveling through Sicily toward Cefalù, when I happened to look out the window and saw a beautiful villa.

It wasn't the villa from Under the Tuscan Sun. I wasn't even in Tuscany. I was in Sicily.

But for just a moment, it didn't matter.

I looked at that house and thought, “That's my house.”

Looking back, I'm sure I sounded completely ridiculous.

I wasn't seriously planning to get off the bus, of course. I knew I had a home waiting for me back in the States, a job to return to, responsibilities, and a life that wasn't going to disappear simply because I had fallen in love with a house I saw for a few seconds through a bus window.

But travel has a funny way of making you imagine the possibilities.

For those few minutes, I let myself imagine a different life.

I imagined buying that beautiful old house and slowly restoring it. I imagined sitting around a long table with Italian friends, sharing wonderful food and laughing late into the evening. I imagined my daughter coming to stay for months while we tried to learn Italian together. I imagined friends from home visiting and filling the house with stories, laughter, and memories.

It was a completely unrealistic dream.

And that's exactly what made it so much fun.

A few weeks after returning home, I still couldn't stop thinking about that moment. I decided that if I couldn't have the villa, I could at least have the photograph.

I could print it, put it in a frame, and hang it somewhere in my home.

And every time I looked at it, I could remember that bus ride through Sicily and the few minutes when I allowed myself to imagine a completely different life.

Maybe that's one of the best things about traveling.

We don't always come home wanting to recreate the places we've visited. Sometimes we come home having imagined who we might be if we stayed.

I never did get off that bus.

I didn't buy the villa.

But for a few wonderful minutes in Sicily, I let myself believe that I could.

And sometimes, I think, it's good to let yourself dream that way.