May 15, 1850
Giovanni and I have packed our belongings, and are ready for the journey to America. The sailing of the Elizabeth has been postponed; but we should have embarked by the day after to-morrow.
What do I carry home with me? A new a fierce Republican spirit; one that I have rediscovered in this Italy, my second home. My father dreamt of me becoming a strong Republican wife and mother: I believe I have exceeded his greatest expectations. Indeed, this vision of the Republic has moved, in my thoughts, to other establishments besides the State. Is not the family the smallest unit of government; the cornerstone of society? Must not man and wife rule together - as equals under God - in order for life, liberty, and happiness to be fully attained by all? It is so: this is the Truth that I have been holding in my heart for many months.
To what do I return? What sort of welcome will I receive? Though America knows next to nothing of my relationship with darling G., it is determined to think the worst of me. I see, already, how even those who love me best will turn coldly on my propositions – even when that parallel between the Political and the Domestic realms is undeniable. My heart aches on looking forward.
And now, a new trouble has appeared. Just as I suffered with sleepwalking and night terrors as a child, so now am I tormented with dreams and visions - of waves: great waves that ever tower and crash. I cannot deny the grim premonition that continually comes to me - I do not think that the sea will welcome me; or, rather, I think it will receive me too readily.
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