Carpe Diem, without regret

Today I read the profile of a Blogger I follow, and read a term I have never heard before: Children of the Third Culture. While born in this country of Italian naturals, I experienced my most formative age in Italy. Even though my life is in the USA, the etiology of who I am is rooted in Italy.

There is a compromise made by the Children of the Third Culture, for we are neither here nor there. Out of our birthroots grow the branches that bear the fruit of another time, another memory, another life. This other time, memory and life creates the third culture of our existence. And therein lies the rub: home. Where is it? Is my home the land that gave me birth; the land that gave me myself; or the longing split between the two?

If the heart of it were not a factor there would not be a third culture. At my age, I have learned to set matters of heart aside and call home and life where my children and their children are. Albeit, from time to time, I slip into my heart, and I will live there for a while but I always come home again. I have to, without regret.

Le mie emozioni sono come onde che portano ricordi da altre spiagge.