Being away from people whom I am accustomed to seeing day in and day out, I find myself taking over their habits even if they are not my own. For instance, the other morning we were out of cereal. I am usually a scrambled eggs kind of girl when presented with the choice, but I found myself eating fried eggs for a few days in a row like my mom does, wiping the yoke off the plate with a slab of bread. Or when I had a craving for fresh walnuts and sat in front of the television with a white metal nutcracker in hand, eating the fleshy bits of nut like my grandpa does at Christmastime when they seem to have an endless supply of them on the coffee table. I realize that I will be returning to these people within only a few weeks, and I will begin to crave dried figs and thinly sliced salami, fresh bread and young, green olive oil for lunch. I will forget that I once missed the convenience of in-home wireless internet in exchange for cobbled, medieval streets. But I should wax poetic later on the things I will miss, and it will be interesting to see what I won’t miss upon my return.