Como Sweet Como

Chapter One: The Art of Letting Go

Her heart was not pounding and she did not feel her blood rushing. That is exactly how she knew this was right. When Lana jumped, she felt she was not falling, but finally flying. This choice was made for her the day she was born. Her destiny was predetermined. Why it took her years to come to terms with that, she would never know.

    "Lana! God, please—

"Excuse me, ma'am." My eyes dart up from the pages in front of me to the flight attendant standing in the aisle. An impatient smile is plastered on her face. "We're going to be landing soon so I'm going to have to ask you to put your tray table back up."

"Oh yeah, sorry." I fold the corner of the page and shut my novel before lifting my tray table. I decide to put away the captivating yet tragic book and take in the view from the little plane window instead. When you're high up in the clouds, everything below appears the same. Large patches of farmland, lakes, and scattered houses as far as the eye can see. The vast land below is my chance to start over, to make my life mine again, yet something about that causes my heart to race and my palms to sweat.

I steal a glance at the travel brochure that the woman sitting beside me is intently studying. Discover Italy: An Individual Traveller's Guide to the Jewel of Europe. I would have brought my own collection of maps and guidebooks had I not been to Italy before. They would be covered in little notes and scribbles, meticulously outlining my agenda for every day of the next two months. Fortunately, I know this country inside and out, so no brochures are needed. Also, I'm trying this new thing called letting go. It's a work in progress.

I revert my focus back to the small window and my nerves quickly descend along with the plane as familiarity sets in. Gazing at the charming country homes with their classic Italian antique, I am reminded of the enchanting ambience that makes this place home. The colorful houses dot the hills lining the breathtaking lake, which is surrounded by the Alps. It's hard to forget the endless hours of jumping off the docs into that lake and the amount of begging it took to convince my mother to let me stay longer every time. It all comes back to me in an instant. It always felt too magical to have been true. But even from my seat in the plane, with my face glued to the window, I can sense that magic once again. The town that I spent seven of the happiest years of my life in remains exactly the same as I left it: beautiful.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the town of Como, Italy! The local time is 2:54 p.m. and the temperature is twenty-five degrees celsius. On behalf of Air Italy and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip. We hope to fly with you again in the near future. Enjoy your stay!"

As soon as the seatbelt light flickers off, I let out a sigh of relief and practically jump out of my seat, feeling a bit delirious. Spending twelve hours cooped up in a plane does that to you. I move to the aisle when the path is clear and stand up on the tip of my toes in an attempt to reach the overhead bin for my carry-on, but I'm stopped by a middle-aged man who grabs my tote bag for me.

"Thank you," I say politely with a smile. This has happened to me one too many times. The gesture is sweet and I appreciate it, but it also makes me feel like a child. I hate being short with a passion.

To make matters worse, the man who hands me the bag looks strikingly similar to my old Criminal Law professor, reminding me of the one persistent thought I have been constantly trying to avoid since the first moment I filed a request to move out of my dorm: maybe dropping law was a mistake.

Mom and Dad sure seem to think so.

Filling them in on my plan to drop out of law school has got to be one of the most difficult tasks I've ever had to accomplish in my life. When I passed the LSAT, I thought things would get easier, I really did. I thought that I would find at least a sliver of passion within me that would yearn for law. But it was never my dream. It was always their dream.

I crushed that dream the second I muttered the words they never thought they would hear. Knowing that their only daughter was not going to be a lawyer left them heartbroken. I can still vividly remember the look on their faces, a blend of confusion, anger, and betrayal. Even worse, their voices echo in my head on a continuous loop.

"Why would you throw everything you have worked for away? Don't you understand how important this is?"

"Colette, this is a rash decision and you know it. You're already one year in. It's too late for cold feet. If you leave, you're on your own!"

It is only when I hear their voices in my head that I doubt the validity of my decision.

It's already done, I tell myself. You made your choice, Colette. Remember letting go? I push the negative thought back to its permanent residence in my subconscious. Then, I adjust the shoulder strap of my tote bag and make my way towards the exit of the stuffy tube that has brought me home.

If that isn't letting go, I don't know what is.