I spent very little time engaged in my beloved city when I was there a couple of weeks ago. Now that I am in France, I miss Florence. I looked out at the Arno from my apartment windows every day when I was home, but I wanted to take in the city a lot more: stroll the streets, walk along the Arno, and maybe even visit a museum. I wanted to open myself up even more to my city, savor it, and bask in it. Florence is unlike any other city I know. Its energy not only inspires me, but it uplifts me, opens my heart, and fills me up with love and joy. No other place on Earth does this for me time and time again.

February is the shortest month of the year, but it seemed to have been the longest. In January, I was preparing for the new year by putting all my ducks in a row. As soon as February hit, everything seemed to come to a standstill. Besides being sick for the second half of the month, the lull arrived at the beginning.

I usually have a mental list of what I’d like to do during my trips home to Florence. I never write this list down because I prefer being flexible. I had a few plans to meet up with girlfriends, go to a Fiorentina match, see my naturopata (naturopath), get a massage, visit a few museums, go shopping, and walk around town as much as possible. I was able to do some of what I wanted initially; however, as soon as I arrived, allergies struck me. Then, on Saturday night I caught a cold and two days later, I lost my voice.

I always forget how delicious domenica (Sunday) is until I am back in Florence. I usually only spend one Sunday a month here, but it is by far the most delightful day of the week. Don’t get me wrong: I love the other days too. I like Mondays because they mark the beginning of the week and the door to possibilities; Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays because I am in the flow; Fridays because I daydream about the weekend; and Saturdays because I accomplish my personal goals and prepare myself for the next week. And then there’s Sunday, which is the day I get to relax, take care of myself, spend time with loved ones, and luxuriate in any way I see fit.

When I woke up this morning, I felt as if my life finally made sense. I’ve been trying to balance my two cities and to live fully in both for the past year and a half. It hasn’t been simple because I thought I had to choose one over the other, but I love them both for different reasons. Each city has its dominant energy: Florence’s is feminine and Paris’s is masculine. For me, these two polar opposites translate into two states: passive and active. Being and doing.

This morning I intended on going for a cappuccino in Piazza della Signoria since my favorite place is closed for the next two weeks. When I arrived I the piazza, I noticed that it was closed. My only plan B was to go much farther away to Caffè Giacosa. I didn’t really have the time, but I rushed over anyway because I love the caffè and the paste (pastries).

It’s only when I interact with people in both of my cities on the same day that I realize some major differences. Normally, I accept each culture quite easily and get into the rhythm of the city rather quickly. However, on the day that I travel from one to the other, I stumble through the transition.

Even though I rarely ever make New Year’s resolutions, I decided that this year I wanted to set a few intentions for 2014. When I think of resolutions, I usually think of things I need or want to improve, but this year isn’t about improvement as much as it is about setting a new path for myself and walking down it. This year, I want to be more proactive by defining goals and focusing on them until I complete them.

After spending the holidays with my beau and my sister and her family in both Florence and Paris, I thought about my two cities a little differently. My sister told me how she experienced Florence and Paris and that spawned me to think about them too. I generally try to accept and appreciate my cities as I would a person, and rarely thought to compare them to each other in detail. Living in both cities is a source of great joy for me.

In the middle of November, I wanted to write something to celebrate my nine-year anniversary of living in Florence. I almost can’t believe that nine years have passed since I moved back to Florence after my five-year hiatus in the US. Most of my family and friends in the US define me as an expat although that’s not how I would describe myself even though by definition I am an expat. For me, an expat is someone who chooses to live in another country, embraces the new culture, speaks the country’s language, and adapts to its lifestyle.

During my last trip to Florence, I got off the bus in San Frediano after going out to Scandicci for an appointment. I wanted to walk home along the Arno, enjoy some alone time, and take a few pictures. With each step, I took in the beauty of my beloved city, breathed in its crisp air and felt its energy flow through me. I crossed Ponte alla Carraia and looked over the edge to watch the water flow under my feet and head east. When I looked over at Ponte Santa Trinita and the Ponte Vecchio, I was overwhelmed with joy.

I have learned to go with the punches and not make waves. On the day I was supposed to sign the compromesso (preliminary contract/agreement to purchase), the deal fell through. The apartment I fell in love with back in August was suddenly no longer my future apartment. Technically the apartment was defined as being “commercial,” yet it was in the process of being changed to “residential.” Unfortunately, between my bank not accepting it and a miscalculation of the height of the ceilings, the chances of it becoming “residential” were practically nil. The owner wasn’t going to wait and therefore, I had to move on.

Soon I’ll be celebrating my nine-year anniversary living in Florence. It’s hard to believe that nine years have gone by already. So much has happened in my life in that time. Ever since I moved to Florence the first time in 1997, I have considered Florence my home. Even though I returned to the US for a few years, Florence was still blazing in my heart and I knew that I would call it home again.

Some days, the harmony between my beloved city and Mother Nature are so riveting that it takes my breath away. This morning when I headed out for a run and was walking on Ponte alle Grazie, I couldn’t help but stare at the Torre di San Niccolò. A dark cloud (one of the only ones in the sky) was hovering overhead and rays of sunshine were piercing through the sky shedding bright yellow beams of light down on the torre. It was one of those rare moments when I expected to hear angels to be singing.

This morning I went for a run under the rippled grey clouds and the Arno at my side. I enjoyed the cool air brushing against my face as I ran down the lungarno (road along the Arno). I let my thoughts swirl around me while I took in the beauty of my beloved city. With each breath, I left my stress and worries behind me.