out and about for the second day in a row
in the sun-drenched december warmth
of a charming fishing village by the sea.
picturesque and gorgeous,
along the italian riviera.
tellaro, nestled in the gulf of poets.
villages that have been both muse and inspiration
to many throughout the centuries.
“if you can find a way to live in the cracks, you can thrive anywhere.” (james s.a. corey)
just as cracks appear in the ceiling at villa magnolia,
we all have cracks that show up in our lives.
some plainly visible,
some skillfully concealed.
the planning.
the packing.
the goodbyes.
the travel.
the country.
the language.
the bureaucracy.
the unfamiliar.
the shipment.
blocked sinuses.
sore back and stiff knees.
hives, a jammed thumb.
cleaning, scraping, painting.
tired beyond tired.
non-stop. daily.
tension and doubt,
small triumphs mixed between.
what to write, what to write.
i suddenly have so much to write about
that i can’t seem to write at all.
i could tell you about our shipment which, after eight weeks at sea,
finally arrived at villa magnolia this wednesday.
i am used to striking up a conversation with anyone, anywhere.
now i only understand a word or two each time i go out.
i nod and smile, feeling idiotic and inferior.
i’m living on the fringe, unable to communicate through the language fog.
when you’ve lived in italy for four weeks . . .
1. there will always be that one person, even among all the beauty and kindness surrounding you, who will point out the (obviously) negative, and tell you why things are not going to work out.
this move to europe has been a long time coming.
we’ve been planning it for years,
the last fifteen months focused on
getting to italy and villa magnolia.
i’m following my dream, but it hasn’t been without hardships.
it’s been a difficult transition so far,
leaving behind everyone and everything familiar.
I was touched and honored when asked to contribute an essay to a colleague’s upcoming online program. My topic would enable me to explore and dissect my move to Italy. When I agreed wholeheartedly to share my story by November 7, I’d imagined being here for two months already.
i have arrived in italy.
and everything is obviously feeling odd and foreign at the moment.
like remembering that i can’t do certain errands anymore,
for two and a half hours every afternoon.
it’s not what i’ve been accustomed to up until this point.
one way.
we leave today.
i have a new jacket.
patagonia calls it shock pink.
which seems rather appropriate right now,
since my system feels shocked to its core.
one way.
we leave today.
i’m scared.
to say goodbye.
to begin this journey.
