Courtesy of Catherine Work
I'm a 30-year-old American woman who just finished my second graduate degree. Instead of chasing a high-paying job or moving to a big city, I moved in with my Italian mother-in-law in a small town called Pietravairano a month ago. I decided to live with her to save money, catch my breath, and get closer to my extended family. Right now, the plan is to stay until my student visa expires at the end of the fall while I'm job hunting for a remote position at an NGO.
Before this, my partner and I lived in Belgium for two years and traveled to many countries. He was homesick, and we both missed the sunshine. Besides looking for a job, we're taking this time to plan out our next steps, but we know we want to spend more time in Italy every year. He's here with me, and it makes me happy seeing him back with his family.
Courtesy of Catherine Work
His mom lives on a farm in a town of 3,000, with chickens, cats, and a rhythm that couldn't be further from my former life. I'm learning Italian, and she doesn't speak any English, but we're figuring it out over garden vegetables, long walks, and a lot of hand gestures. We bond over food, flowers, and family — and I'm hoping the next half-year will bring me not just a new job, but a better appreciation for a different pace of life.
I was raised to move out at 18 and be very independent, but in Italian culture, kids can live at home for as long as they'd like. Growing up, I thought it was shameful to move back in or ask for help from family. But over the past couple of years, I've come to see the real value of being near loved ones and sharing the small moments with them.
Here, I'm slowly learning it's OK to be taken care of, and I love finding my new role in this household. I'm trading my hyper-independence for home-cooked meals, the anonymity of a big city for knowing my neighbors, and hours in front of a screen for slow walks along a dirt road.
Now feels like a good time in my life to make an intentional move to be physically and emotionally closer to my partner's family and explore a slower rhythm of life. This arrangement also gives me flexibility. I can take a job I'm passionate about, as opposed to just chasing a high salary — something else I've been rethinking lately.
Besides job hunting, I plan to spend my days learning from her. She has a wealth of knowledge about food and plants. It's currently zucchini season, and we just hung some to dry in the sun. I'll bake her a zucchini bread in return.
Courtesy of Catherine Work
Next month, we'll harvest potatoes — she makes them perfectly grilled with olive oil and rosemary — and soon, we'll make sun-dried tomatoes and other preserved foods. In the fall, we'll harvest grapes to make wine. She loves baking cakes, and I'm hoping she'll share her recipes with me this summer. As a newly retired teacher, she has the patience to help me learn Italian, and I'm happy to say we can now have short conversations.
This living arrangement isn't just a temporary stopgap — it's slowly reshaping how I think about adulthood and what I want. Sharing a home with someone from another generation and culture has challenged ideas I once held tightly: that independence meant distance, or that success had to come fast and loud.
There's vulnerability in being a guest in someone else's world while you figure out your next steps. But there's also quiet resilience in building family in unexpected places, in learning to slow down, listen, and let your life unfold on its own terms.
There's something uniquely humbling about returning to a household where you're not the one in charge — where dinner is at 8 p.m., the chores are done a certain way, and the rhythms of daily life were set long before you arrived.
This isn't how I imagined postgrad success would look, but waking up surrounded by family and going to bed with a belly full of pasta makes me feel like I won the lottery. Even if I do find a job soon, I might not want to leave this life just yet. I'm learning to live like the tomatoes we're drying in the sun: slowly, intentionally, and full of flavor.
Today marks the 50th anniversary of Jaws, Steven Spielberg's blockbuster horror movie based on the bestselling novel by Peter Benchley. We're marking the occasion with a tribute to this classic film and its enduring impact on the popular perception of sharks, shark conservation efforts, and our culture at large.
(Many spoilers below.)
Jaws tells the story of Chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider), the new police chief for Amity Island, a New England beach town and prime summer tourist attraction. But that thriving industry is threatened by a series of shark attacks, although the local mayor, Larry Vaughn (Murray Hamilton), initially dismisses the possibility, ridiculing the findings of visiting marine biologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss). The attacks keep escalating and the body count grows, until the town hires a grizzled shark hunter named Quint (Robert Shaw) to hunt down and kill the great white shark, with the help of Brody and Hooper.
© Universal Pictures
Elon Musk raced to build Colossus, the world's largest supercomputer, in Memphis, Tennessee. He bragged that construction only took 122 days and expected that his biggest AI rivals would struggle to catch up.
To leap ahead, his firm xAI "removed whatever was unnecessary" to complete the build, questioning "everything" that might delay operations and taking the timeline "into our own hands," xAI's website said.
Now, xAI is facing calls to shut down gas turbines that power the supercomputer, as Memphis residents in historically Black communities—which have long suffered from industrial pollution causing poor air quality and decreasing life expectancy—allege that xAI has been secretly running more turbines than the local government knows, without permits.
© ©Steve Jones, Flight by Southwings for SELC
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