Hi dear,

How are you?

I’m finally back in Italy, and now that the dust has settled a little, I can sit with myself and talk about my trip to Brazil. While I was there, I had a few texts pre-written because—honestly—I didn’t have the time. It was a trip made of trips, tiny journeys within a bigger one. Maybe this will become a series. Let’s see. Today, I want to start at the beginning.

 The first part of my trip was visiting my family on my mother’s side. They live in a small rural town in Rondônia, a state in the northern part of Brazil, close to the Amazon. Which basically means: add two extra days just to get there, and two more to come back. The last time I’d seen most of them was seven years ago, right before I came to Italy for the first time. So this year—knowing I would stay in Brazil longer than usual—visiting them felt necessary.

My relationship with this side of the family has always been… interesting. We never lived near each other, and I can count on one hand the times we’ve met. And yet, just like when I wrote about my grandmother in the 26th edition, I’ve always felt their love for me so deeply. As a kid, I couldn’t understand it.

I used to believe that love needed presence—that you needed years of coexistence for it to grow. Otherwise, it was just words.

But they have always proved me wrong.

Every time I went there, I felt loved. Every time I saw them, I saw love. To the point where now, as an adult who thinks too much about these things, I question all my theories on how love is built—but I no longer question their love for me. Or mine for them.

Before I arrived, my aunt decorated the entire house for Christmas (in late October!) as a way to celebrate that I was coming. I was equally excited and brought (amazing) gifts from my trip to Sicily. My mom planned activities for us as a family, and moments for just the two of us. She cooked the recipes she knows I love. My grandmother did the most grandmother thing possible and secretly gave me money behind my mom’s back. My cousin—now seventeen—took me to the gym, and we bonded through something so simple I’ve never done with a cousin before: working out together.

• My days there were simple. Time moved in these soft rhythms: waking up at 7, lunch at 11, reading, resting, afternoon coffee with cake, gym, and maybe some late-night games when everyone reunited after dinner. When I was little, I hated that quiet life. Now, I think I crave it.

This first part of the trip reminded me why I love Rondônia, and what family can mean when you look at it without expectations, without rules, without the need for constant presence. As Lilo & Stitch says, “Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” And even though I was never close by, I was never forgotten. and I will always remember that.

With love,
Micael.