Author Archives: April Lee

one year in

okay, one year in. and my new country of choice is a warm, inviting, beautiful place.

but there are still difficult moments. this week i was feeling a bit discouraged, a bit blue:

  • i know i’ve said this over and over, but i thought my grasp of the italian language would be further along by now.

swirling untamed thoughts (or my-week-in-review)

villa magnolia stairwell

chilly villa
gladiolas
the curve of a cat’s tail
detox

pending citizenship
first mountaintop snow
tech problems
first quinoa

soul-searching
the sting of bitterness
wild thunderstorm
isolation and frustration

italian verbs
a medical emergency
regretful fear
dependence

exceptional humans
cozy comfort
moving meditation
breakthroughs
 
 
what mental images emerge for you when recalling your week?

the lean

leaning tower of pisa

the tower famously leans,
and we are in awe of it.

we lean,
and feel unbalanced, out of control.

the same characteristic that
makes the tower so appealing

makes us feel like
we are on unsteady terrain.

yet we stand strong too,
despite our faults.

it will happen.

well, saturday will mark a year that i’ve lived in italy! amazing challenges. unbelievable growth. it seems like the time’s gone quickly, yet it also seems like forever. a lifetime of unparalleled jubilation and disorienting bewilderment, in just twelve months.

so after being here a full year, i should probably be able to speak italian (perhaps even be fluent).

sunshine and humanity smiling

when i’m feeling
inadequate and small, and
the world has a good chance
of swallowing me whole

i seek peace, stillness,
and clarity of thought.
with both sunshine and humanity
smiling upon me.
 
 
vernazza in october
 
 
“what sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.”
~joseph addison
 
 
*******
 
 
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on this day, october 11

4 years ago, on october 11, 2013.
in besano and induno olona, italy.

me with my italian cousins
with a few of my italian cousins.
discovering my roots.
 
 
grandma's house in italy
the home where my grandma was born and raised.
now a pharmacy.
 
 
eric in induno olona
the hotel where we stayed.

after the trembling, dare to hope.

violence. bloodshed.
here we are once again.
tragedy. heartbreak.
incomprehensible to comprehend.

i tremble.

so much pain. catalonia, france, the united states.
the vegas shooting far from me, yet at least six
had come from places that i’ve called home.
two of the six are now two of the 58, gone forever.

one word that moves mountains.

apuan alps mist

do you crave an existence in a more expansive world?
do you wish to create a magical life for yourself?

ACT.

do you have a secret desire, a yearning, a hunger?
for a stronger voice, for adventurous travel, for better relationships?

losing the citrusy scent

i no longer am able to take pleasure in
the citrusy scent of a freshly cut orange,
the perfumed air from a bouquet of roses,
the sweet powdery smell of a baby’s soft skin.

we live our lives through our senses,
and i’ve lost my sense of smell.

when it’s all been said before

what is there to say,
when it’s all been said before?

maybe just that i am here,
in a new place, learning to navigate.
but dealing with similar struggles,
and with similar joys to celebrate.

we’re all different, it is true,
with our unique habits and notions.