Home is where the heart is

On Satuday morning it was pretty awful. Some people left at 3 a.m., and although we had good intentions, we couldn't get out of bed to wave them off.

At 7.30 a big group departed and many tears were shed and promises made as all the luggage was loaded into one of the vans.

Paola, Snjezana, Stella and I went to the Black Sheep coffee shop for a last and lovely breakfast, walked back along the farmers' market full of flowers and returned at the dorm just in time to kiss the rest goodbye. Our hearts were torn between the thrill of going home and the ache of leaving our friends.

At the airport, we all went our own way and then I disovered - to my entire delight - that José Luis and I were travelling together till Atlanta. This gave us plenty of time to talk and reminisce the last days of our project. We turned the pages of the Anthology of American Literature and my eyes lingered on a poem by Robert Frost; I'd like to share it with you as a final keynote to our joint project:

"The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
An that has made all the difference."


Our own paths have come to a Y again, and we must and will choose the road we wish to travel.

May your choices lead you to the destination of you dreams; may our paths intersect again one day as they did on the crossroads of Amherst!

All the best.