This sense of love has made me a strong person. It has sculpted my priorities making family my soul value. As I grew up I remember having Sunday dinners with my grandparents and having my Dad's family over so much that seeing them had become a tradition it’s self. I am proud of my father for not letting work or life take away my opportunity to discover and explore my Italian background. I am so thankful that I had a chance to feel the love that my family gave to me. But, as time went on, I saw less and less of my family. My grandparents eventually moved back to the old country and when they moved back the rest of the family detached themselves from the dinner obligations and the afternoon coffee meets. Every summer when my grandparents came back to Buffalo I felt as if I were surrounded by Italy. The culture suddenly reappeared as everyone walked into the dining room to eat dinner. The aroma of the pasta and every "r" that was rolled made me want to dig deeper into my background.

When I was ten, my father came to me one day and said that he had a surprise. I asked repeatedly what it was and when he finally told me, I wanted a replay of the moment. I wanted to make sure I heard my father correctly. The surprise was a two week trip to Italy. My excitement was so loud and anxious. I didn't know what Italian was until I was six. I didn't know that my father was foreign or that what he originally spoke wasn't English. At the time leading up to the trip I wasn't really interested in learning about Italy. But, when I stepped off the plane and my feet touched Sicilian soil, I knew then that that was where I was meant to be. I returned to Italy again when I was fourteen. I had been studying Italian for almost 9 months at the time. The culture had amazed me and I just couldn't get enough of it. Every chance I got I wanted to speak Italian and every step I took made me want to stay there forever. My father never taught his children Italian. He never talked about the old country and he never talked of his time in Italy. Not until the first time we left for Sicily.

Over the past three years I have studied Italian. I have learned to live and breathe Italian. I have hosted Italians from Torremaggiore and I have worked the Italian festival. Over the past three years I have learned so much about the culture and the country. I started Italian level one not knowing any Italian and now I am so addicted to learning about this amazing nationality. I can read, write, and speak Italian. Although my knowledge of the language is not yet fluent, I can actually converse when I visit Italy. I can engage myself in discussions of the culture and I can understand when people are trying to speak to me.

My third visit to the island made me realize that I will never be satisfied in any other country, any other language, or any other situation. Whenever I started a conversation with someone, it frustrated me when I did not know a word or understand the pronunciation. It frustrated me that I did not know what Italian was from birth. I know that when I study in college I want to study Italian culture and language. Because Italian is what I am. I may be only half blooded but all you need is a little stream of Italian blood in your veins to make you yearn for the Italian life. I am not the definition of Italian, but someday, I will know that I worked hard enough to thrive for the lifestyle and I will know that I made my life more than satisfying just by including the one country that I could never lose my love for.