A year ago today I set out on a journey to visit my grandparents’ birthplaces in Calabria, Italy. I’d daydreamed about going for years, and when I zoomed in on their birth towns via Google Earth, I knew I had to turn the dream into a reality.

I carefully researched what I wanted to see. During my visit I did everything I wanted to do, and left myself open to unplanned moments. I felt as if I were in a gelato store with a wide variety of choices, given a little spoonful of something new and exhilarating, but there is so much history, culture, and natural wonders in Calabria that a little taste wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

I’d intended to return this year and stay three months to wander and savor as much as I could. And then Covid19 came along and changed how we are living and will live for the foreseeable future. We don’t know when we will be able to travel again, and when we do, how the way we travel will change.

For now, I must content myself with memories that are like the moon on a still sea; a reflection of a bountiful land of olive groves and vineyards, ancient villages perched on sheer cliffs above fields of red poppies growing wild in the rolling terrain.

It is difficult to say what impressed me the most, what I enjoyed the most, what I miss the most because every experience was rich and full. It may sound strange, but what I am left with is regrets.

I regret the times I didn’t carry my camera with me. After a while it felt heavy and cumbersome. Sometimes, even though I had my camera with me, it was easier to use the phone’s camera. I missed capturing interesting moments because I fiddled too long with settings and the moment was gone. There were times I was so drawn in by what I was seeing that I didn’t think of using the camera, but those pictures are fixed indelibly in my mind.

In spring the roadsides of Calabria are adorned with red poppies and wild flowers. Red poppies are said to be the gift of the goddess Demeter, the Bringer of Seasons, expressing her joy at being reunited with her daughter, Persephone, returning from her life in the underworld.

The poppies dominated the landscape between vineyards and olive groves as we drove along country lanes on the way to Casabona, the birthplace of my paternal grandparents. The red of the poppies was enhanced by dainty yellow marguerites that grew beside them. They took my breath away. Most likely, they are in bloom now. I close my eyes and I am in a meadow surrounded by them; their red blossoms feel like silk to my touch.

Many of the meals I ate were remembered tastes from my childhood. I ate whatever I wanted, but limited bread to one slice if it was part of the meal, with an occasional second slice. Now I regret not eating more of the delicious bread that was set before me. La Figlia di Annibale served a delightful yellow bread. The waiter said it was made with “grano d’oro.” Every morning my host at La Corte del Geco, Daniele Tricoli, served a different kind of bread fresh from the bakery. At Com na Vota the bread was dense and chewy, served with sardella, a paste made of sardines and peppers.

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And gelato, I wish I’d eaten more gelato.

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My greatest regret is the Missed Connection when I got off the train in Catanzaro Lido. But life isn’t lived in regret. I am grateful for the memories I’ve collected, and for now I will enjoy the beauty of my garden while I wait with the rest of the world for healing and new ways to live.