I'm back -- and hope you are too

I'm sorry to have left you hanging, such as you are.
I'm back now.
Thank you for having patience with me. And for coming back yourself. I appreciate it.
We've made some decisions, which wasn't easy. I'm going back to London tomorrow with my husband. My elder son is coming to London next weekend too, to look for work there.
I'm scared of it, I don't know if it's the right move, (there's still that nagging, totally unrealistic, feeling we should all just run back to the States), but I'm going to try hard to make it all work. Just give it my best shot.
My husband is due back at work on Monday, and then he goes on a short trip on Tuesday. Back to the States, if you can believe the irony. To New York. The lucky bugger. (That's a Britishism, in case you're not British. And you're wondering.)
And then it's the first day of the rest of our life, I guess.
Never trusted that saying that much. It's always the first day of the rest of your life, isn't it?
Anyway, I wanted my son to come to Italy. More room here. But it's not realistic. If this internship/job he's still waiting on here doesn't happen, there's not much in Italy for him, let's be serious.
Even though, there are lots of people here who would befriend him, invite him to dinner, help him look for a part-time job to tide him over, all kinds of things. (STOP.)
We haven't given up on the internship/job in Italy for him. That's what he wants; that's what we want for him. They tell us to have patience, that something could break soon.
We're trying, but he needs to get on with his life. It scares me that he's going to sell his car (well, give the piece of junk away, probably) and sever his ties to the States now too. And that we're all gonna squish in together in London.
I wanted to stay in Italy too. But you can't stay married and live in different countries, I've decided. I don't think so, anyway.
I need to go back to my London freelance job, too, or I won't have it anymore. And if I don't have that, I'm doomed there. Even you know that.
And I've been here a long time this summer. Even though it still feels like the blink of an eye.
But it isn't. It's been weeks, months even.
I'm not done with all my errands though, or my new life-making, or lemon-chasing, or anything. Everything takes time. Maybe that's good though. Leaving when the going's still good.
I missed the end of summer here. But so what? I had plenty of summer. It was so hot for awhile here, especially when I had the swine flu. That's why I was sleeping downstairs, where it's cooler, when I got robbed.
Anyway, god, it's not just about me, and the everlasting summer, is it? How selfish -- and shallow -- is that.
I've learned a few things though, that I didn't know, that I wasn't completely sure of.
I love my side of the hill here.
I love this little town.
There are some interesting people here -- expats and Italians -- to befriend. There is a community here.
I know at least half a dozen women here and in Rome who I'd like to spend more time with.
I like living close to my Italian cousins, the only Italian family I have left.
I like being Italian.
It's not a choice actually: I am Italian.
These are the things I know now.
It's a start.