Ciao Bella (at least for now)

Well, the Renza-Courtney duo is over, for now. We survived 14 days without killing each other - three meals a day just the two of us, many a shared train ride, countless times fighting for sink privileges while brushing our teeth together.

You learn so much about another while traveling - their passions for history, foods, their thoughts on cultures, politics, religion; the way they handle crises or stress.

Renza is a wonderful friend; one I will have for life, and I hate that I felt so crappy with a cough our last 24 hours together. By the end of the trip, we had been asked if we were sisters - on two separate occasions. In reality we have numerous differences, in addition to our looks...

Sometimes nervous or laid back, on time or always late, conservative or liberal, bilingual or simple-tongued, herbivore or carnivore, to name a few. But we share so much.

Our faith, our love for adventures and traveling, our sense of independence in this world, our deep dependence on our families, the Camp-Longhorn shaped holes on our hearts. I owe Tex Robertson, my family, and good ole Jesus for crossing our paths and aligning our personalities to become such wonderful friends.

It never occurred to me before this trip that I cannot pinpoint when Renza and I became friends. What caused us, at age 13, to become buds? I have no idea. I know we were good at keeping in touch during the school year with letters and occasional phone calls from Oklahoma to Tejas. Then we visited each other our senior year of high school and stayed devoted to Camp Longhorn as counselors and time together for the next five summers.

I love airports. I had at least twenty solo flights during 2008, but I don't find airports lonely because I love being able to people watch in solitary anonymity. However, my fifteen minutes of solitude in the Rome airport were some of the loneliest I'd had in a long time. Renza, my traveling counterpart, my map, my guru of all things European, had gone to her own gate to board a plane bound for Madrid.

It was a spectacular two weeks, one for the record books. There is absolutely no space in any of Renza's three bags, all busting at the zipper seams. But even so, I find myself wishing I was shoved in amidst her clothes, wine, and new leather jacket. I find myself wishing that this trip wasn't over.

Until next time, Renza, I leave you with the words of Truman Capote:
I miss you already. Write me every five minutes.