Sophomore English, period 2
23 January 2013
A Traveler’s Tale
My family and I landed across the ocean to explore new and amazing wonders. Our destination was a small village on a prominent mountain peak approximately two hours away from where we had touched down. It was where my grandfather grew up when he was a young child until he moved to America with my grandmother (also from Italy). They were blessed with a child who would become my mom. She had visited the village a few times in the past, and on this trip, she had one of her cousins who still lived there take us to our destination—Poggio Umbricchio, Italy.
Although he did not speak any English, he was a lively character full of alacrity and humor. During our long drive, my mom reminisced about tales of her previous visits. As we were briskly swerving around the mountain, I noticed the rich scenery flowing around every turn. The trees and plants were as eye-popping and beautiful as a vivid painting. We pressed higher and higher atop the mountain, until my ears popped and our destination was finally in sight. It was as beautiful as my mom had described. Hidden by a narrow entrance, a church steeple welcomed us into the warm village. The cobblestone paths flowed like a lazy river. The homes climbed up and down the slopes revealing meandering paths. It resembles an intricate maze, with all paths leading back the center of the village.
We just stood there gazing at a piece of art taking it all in and appreciating what it had to offer. Beyond the village was a majestic mountain reflecting both the red sun and white snowy peaks. I suddenly realized that this is where my family is from—where I am from. This beautifully simple Italian village tucked away in a hidden mountain would now be etched in my memory and my heart. This town is my family, my heritage, my history, and it would be part of me forever.