My dearest diary,

This evening, the palace is tranquil again. The halls have returned to their gentle, measured echoes, and my schedule sprawls before me upon the desk, back in its position of quiet tyranny over me. And yet I am changed from the girl who used to follow it with such devotion and faithfulness.

I have come back to my obligations in the manner I have always recognized I should. I said the words aloud, unwaveringly, not only to persuade others, but to persuade myself too. The weight of duty is not unfamiliar to me. I came into the world knowing its weight. And yet, it has slipped my memory, until today, how burdensome it can feel, even after a single day of freedom.

Rome gifted me that day.

I strolled where my heart desired, halted at my leisure, and laughed as if no rule could control me. I selected my own shoes, styled my own hair, and claimed my own name. For a fleeting, miraculous few hours, I ceased to be “Her Royal Highness”, but solely a lady among other ladies, basking in the sun and undmindful with time. The city unfolded itself to us and the Vespa’s thrum lingers in my memory.

Oh… and Joe.

I refuse to write anything beyond his name. Several things are better left unexplored, in order for their truth to not be lost. He regarded me not as some symbol, but as a person. That could be the grandest gift Rome has bestowed me.

I know that the honorable thing was to return to my duties. The tale of a princess who leaves indefinitely is captivating, yet a selfish one. I am obligated to my country over my happiness. Still, I carry this day silently, like a handwritten note, inserted between the pages of my life.

When the reporters questioned me about which city I cherished the most, I answered truthfully.

Rome!

By all means Rome.

Tomorrow I will, of course, be once again Princess Anne, but tonight I let myself recall the girl who sat by the river, imagining a world far bigger than the walls that confined her.

I will always remember her.

Until tomorrow,

Princess Anne