Jhumpa Lahiri’s point of arrival
Live MintDear Italy, yesterday I should have landed in Rome to reunite with my son, who goes to school there. I’d have said hello, and they’d have said, “welcome back.” It’s just that my son, along with millions of kids throughout Italy and elsewhere, doesn’t go to school anymore. And up until a few days ago, when I was still planning to board that plane, many told me, “Jhumpa, don’t come.” I absorb their fear and feel equally stunned. And yet he was the one who, with remarkable elegance and composure, replied “this, too, shall pass.” And so, in my own world, and in its own way, the coronavirus has already healed a wound—or rather, cured a condition that has afflicted me for five years now: the condition of feeling sadly separated, exiled from Italy when I’m away, always eager to return. But today, here in Princeton, where I’m following live news reports as if I were in my living room in Rome, I finally realize that there is no distance between me and Italy.
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