Romance, Italy, and the Art of Loving Our Own Lives
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With Rome only a week away, I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is not to postpone love, curiosity, or joy. Romance isn’t something we wait on—it’s something we offer ourselves, day by day. Life is far too precious to keep setting things aside, whether it’s a dream vacation, telling someone you love them, or showing yourself that same tenderness.
Intimate romance is lovely, of course… but I’ve learned that romancing ourselves is just as beautiful. It’s in the little things: a meal cooked with care, a quiet corner and a good book, dancing barefoot in the kitchen, an evening stroll simply because the sky feels soft. And sometimes it’s in the big, brave things—like taking yourself across the world simply because your heart whispered, “Go.”
We don’t have to wait for the perfect partner to feel cherished.The kind of love we deserve requires someone who is ready for depth, meaning, and reciprocity—and if they aren’t, then the sweetest romance we can offer is the one we give ourselves.
And maybe that’s exactly why this upcoming trip feels so meaningful.
Because Rome may be the birthplace of the word romance, but right now, I’m learning that the most enduring kind begins within me.
Where the Word Romance Really Began
Have you ever wondered where the word romance comes from? Most people imagine candlelit dinners or sweeping love stories… but the truth is even more charming—and yes, it does trace back to Rome.
It all began with the Latin word romanice, which meant:
“In the Roman way” — or “in the language of the Romans.”
As the Roman Empire faded, everyday Latin slowly blossomed into the languages we now recognize as French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and Romanian. These became known as the Romance languages—not because they were inherently poetic (though they are), but because they were born from Roman speech.
Centuries later, European writers began creating imaginative tales—knights on quests, brave heroes, impossible love, sweeping adventure—and wrote them in the Romance languages rather than Latin. These stories were simply called “romances.”
Over time, the meaning shifted:
from romance the language,
to romance the story,
to romance the feeling—the longing, the beauty, the hope, the possibility.
What began as a linguistic label slowly transformed into a word that makes our hearts flutter.
Why It Still Matters
Knowing that romance began in Rome feels fitting, doesn’t it?
A city where art lives in the stones, where beauty insists on being seen, where history and longing walk hand in hand.
Perhaps that’s why so many of us feel more alive in places like Rome—the birthplace of stories we still tell ourselves about love, courage, and wonder.
A Honey Note
Maybe the sweetest part of learning this is remembering that romance isn’t defined by a person.
It's a way of moving through the world.
A way of noticing beauty.
A way of believing in what’s possible.
If my granddaughter ever asks me what romance means, I hope I can tell her this:
“It began in Rome, but it lives in the way we love life.”
Con amore e un po’ di magia,
Honey (MaryNell)
PS: If life is a love letter, this chapter feels like the part where the ink begins to glow.
