I found myself in a space of being so uncertain about what I was supposed to do next. There were goals that I achieved but felt far from where I could be. Ideas passed by me, dancing in the air, then blowing away in the wind.

The hardest part of this year was being in a long distance relationship. Trying to be present in the current moment but always thinking about the next time I would see my boyfriend. My present moment was seven hours behind his. My mornings were his afternoons. His morning my midnights. Most of my year lived in digital albums of our time together, bouncing between America and Europe. Our relationship was riddled with uncertainty and infinite possibility. 

Together, we twirled around the world with our string of love, experiencing culture, learning language, and true loving. Apart, we pulled at the string for support in times of anxiety and to share in times of happiness. We talked about one day as if it was our once upon a time. 

We always tried to be there for the most important life events.

We kissed at midnight, ringing in the New Year at a concert in Chicago. We toured the famous perfumery in Grasse, celebrating my 24th birthday in France. We danced in Rome, the night Itto’s first album was released. We conducted a photoshoot in Italy for my cocktail business. We hung posters across Chicago, promoting Itto’s first English song in 10 years. We slept under shooting stars the night Itto turned 30. 

Throughout the year, we held memories from Tuesday afternoons and slow Sunday mornings. 

We made American breakfast in Italy. We ate hotdogs in Chicago and tapas in Spain. We cooked pasta with my Nana and tacos with my mom. We perfected our carbonara recipe and prepared it for 10 Americans.  We barbecued in my backyard. My brother made the burgers and my sister made the mac & cheese. 

I have learned there is not one right way to have a relationship. The intercultural nature of our relationship has opened my eyes to reobserve American culture from a foreign perspective, just as Itto has reexperienced Italian culture from my inexperience. I stopped obsessing over the right thing to do next and lived my life. 

Our summer was split between Chicago and Formentera. Bias included, Chicago summer is the best in America, with baseball games, live music and beach days surrounded by skyscrapers. On the other side of the Atlantic, tucked into the Balearic Islands, Formentera is magic. 

I flew from Chicago to Madrid to Ibiza then a bus to the port and a boat to Formentera. Itto was arriving that night and, with jet lag, it was 4am in my body and 11am on the island. I don’t remember lunch and promptly fell asleep on the beach for five hours. Our holiday was three weeks of Spanish siestas, Mediterranean cocktails, books on the beach, island exploration, and the best tan of my life. 

Itto celebrated his 30th birthday on the island surrounded by the loving chaos of family and friends. Four days later, he planned a date for us to explore the island on scooters. Facing the sea, I felt Itto wrap me in a hug. With his chest pressed against my back, I felt his heart beat stronger than I’d ever felt anything before—it could’ve beat through my body and come out the other side. Amidst a flurry of kisses, he proposed with the princess ring of my dreams.

We promised our love forever and got engaged in Formentera. We celebrated with cañas and calamares in Madrid and toasted to our forever. Our fairytale summer ended as I cried in the airport, kissing goodbye before the last two months of long distance. I was moving to Italy in November. 

I landed in Chicago and shared the news of my engagement with tears of excitement. The weeks leading up to my move were filled with family and friends and embarking on the scavenger hunt of paperwork for getting married to an Italian. Seriously, the level of difficulty should warrant it an Olympic sport. Oh, and to further complicate the paperwork, my 13 year old cat was coming with me.

Moving away from my family was the hardest part. I filled those days with memories, a rolodex to flip through when I missed them. My Nana hosted a two night sleepover, we stayed in our pajamas, reliving decades of pictures. We drank coffee with baileys until the small hours of the night and went through her wardrobe, playing with purses and perfume. 

With the support of my mom and friends, I tried on wedding dresses, spinning around the room like Cinderella. My brother and sister came to Chicago for my last weekend and my mom took my whole family out to an unforgettable dinner at our favorite fish restaurant. I surprised my sister with a white box sealed with flowers and asked her to be my Maid of Honor. 

I booked my flight to leave after the Presidential Election, hoping to celebrate the first female President. My eyes were glued to the T.V., waiting for electoral votes to fill the states on the screen. In disbelief, I watched a rerun of 2016. 

My overweight suitcases were packed. My cat had two doses of her flight medicine. My mom took the day off of work to be with me. My papers were signed and sealed. I had my one-way ticket to Italy. 

I know anxiety and uncertainty boarded the flight with me. They go everywhere with me and would not miss the opportunity to go across the world. But there were more important feelings packed. I learned to trust myself and lean into love. A piece of my heart was with my family, in the house I grew up in, and a piece of their love was with me. Probably why my luggage was overweight. 

Tucked into the last row of the plane, with my 13 year old cat on my lap and a dazzling ring on my finger, I felt the weight of everything I was leaving behind – and the thrill of everything ahead. 

2024 was my year of change, love, and trust. And as I write this now, in Italy, just hours before I kiss my fiancée on the new year, I know that I didn’t just move across the world – I moved closer to the life I’ve always imagined and I was brave enough to go after it. 

Cheers to 2025 and all the uncertainty it holds. I’m ready.