In 2014, my niece studied abroad in Rome. Of course, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to plan a visit while she was there. During my February break, I boarded a plane with my husband, excited to see my niece and explore a new destination. A few of my most treasured memories of that trip include saying a prayer in the Pantheon, spending a delightful afternoon at the zoo (Bioparco di Roma) and whizzing through the city streets on a double-decker tour bus. In the photo essay below, my character, Maisie, looks back on her own memories of Rome.

Nearly thirty years ago, Maisie Brennan fell in love. During her junior year at Connecticut College, she had opted to study abroad in Rome. Within a week of her arrival, Maisie was in love with the Eternal City. The ancient monuments existing within the hustle and bustle of the modern metropolis captured her imagination. In particular, the Pantheon. The first time she stood beneath the dome in the 2000 year old basilica and gazed up at the bright autumn sky through its miraculous oculus, Maisie knew she somehow belonged there.

Now, at age 49, Maisie is finishing her breakfast in the kitchen of her tiny one-bedroom bungalow in Massachusetts. She had woken up thinking about Rome. In her dreams, she had been back in the Pantheon and it was snowing. A gentle cascade of snow flakes drifted through the oculus like a glittering, frozen veil as Maisie walked slowly across the rotunda. Catching sight of her high school Latin teacher, she hurried over to the tomb of Raphael where a small choir was singing “Ave Maria.”

When she opened her eyes, Maisie was humming the final bars of the iconic hymn. Pondering the meaning of her odd dream, Maisie climbed out of bed and went down to the kitchen. While her tea steeped and she waited for her two slices of rye to pop out of the toaster, she had retrieved her college photo album from the bottom shelf of the floor to ceiling book case in her living room.

On the pine farmhouse table in front of her sits an unopened copy of The Cape Cod Chronicle and the battered photo album. Between taking sips of Earl Grey and bites of buttery toast, she turns the pages of the album. Every snapshot prompts a nostalgic memory. The colosseum at night. Playful lemurs at the zoo. The magnificent tapestries in the Vatican Museum. Michelangelo’s Pieta. A picture of a bright red tour bus makes her stop and smile. She hums softly as she thinks back to the day she had taken that picture.

On the first Saturday of the semester, Maisie had decided to explore her new city, tourist style. First thing in the morning, she and her roommate bought tickets for one of the open air, double decker buses that rolled through the city streets informing visitors about the grand and glorious history of Rome. Eagerly the girls climbed aboard at the train station in the Piazza de Cinquecento and headed for the top deck. Plugging in the headphones provided by the driver, Maisie settled back to enjoy the ride.

Along the route, they rode by the Basilica Santa Maria Maggiore, the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Vatican, the Spanish Steps and the Villa Borghese Gardens. Between the prerecorded commentary about each sight, passengers listened to classical music recordings. As the bus rumbled away from the PIazza Venezia toward the Vatican the thundering chords of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” made Maisie’s heart speed up. She laughed out loud, appreciating the moment as she rode through the streets of Rome with the wind in her hair and the thrilling music spurring them on.

Closing the album and finishing her tea, Maisie wonders where her spirit of adventure has gone. Every time she watches Rick Steves or Samantha Brown on PBS, she dreams of jetting off to Europe, the Far East or the Caribbean. In reality, she hasn’t used her passport in years. Maisie props her chin in her hands and sighs. At least she hasn’t let it expire.

For too long, she has made seemingly valid excuses for putting off travel. Mortgage payments. Too busy at work. Family obligations. Well, not anymore, Maisie tells herself. Her dream about the Pantheon is a sign, she decides. The gods are telling her to venture forth. Her fiftieth birthday is coming up. She will splurge and book a tour of Italy. It is time to make new memories.