snippets of my italian life, the november edition . . .
as my hand slid across its very old surface, the stone fireplace in the tower transmitted its strength and serenity to me.
one of loris jacopo bonini’s poems. when i die, i want it read with the scattering of my ashes. (still thinking of what that perfect spot will be, since i don’t feel as if i belong in any one place.)
the books piling up on my desk throughout the month.
by this date (the 19th), it had rained every single day in november so far (and would continue through the end of the thirty days and beyond), even during those moments when the sun dared to glimmer. basta, enough! i decided to accept the dare and emulate the sun. to determine to shine regardless.
weekly meet-ups with this dear friend this month, making such a difference in my outlook. i appreciate her presence very much.
i put the bedding, now clean and refreshed, back on the bed. and i felt content. i felt safe. kind of hard to explain, but my experience of the villa was different that day. it felt like one of those big old houses in the gothic novels I love to read so much (though much smaller in size, of course). a storm was brewing outside (as was the case for much of november). but i felt peaceful and protected inside the strong stone walls, engaged in a common household task.
and i applied this same mindfulness to the rest of my cleaning chores that week. as a result, i felt less irritated by what had to be done, more aware and grateful that i was able to do it.
i’ve wanted to write it my entire life. i’m finally taking steps. book notes.
“their seeming disarray reflected the movements of a mind incessantly noting links and intersections, seeking coherence.” (martha cooley)
taken from the car-in-motion at dusk, november 25.
arnica has become my everyday companion, ever since two hard falls on my knees (december 2018 and august 2019). my right knee especially troubles me.
lots of rain in italy = lots of leaks in italian houses. these, in our kitchen / dining room / master bedroom, all originated from the terraces.
a kind plumber removed some ancient pipes from the villa, and he and eric reworked the complicated plumbing system a bit.
and so, consequently, for the first time since we moved in . . . we have full water pressure in our master shower and actual hot water flowing from the kitchen faucet! heavenly.
a bit of a setback at our home in the states. damage to the garage when a neighbor had a minor vehicular accident.
a good friend sent me an impactful article, some of the best words i’ve ever read about the grief process. i was especially moved by a passage about an indigenous australian village’s reaction >> “the night someone dies, everyone in the village moves a piece of furniture or something else into their yard. the next day, when the bereaved family wakes up and looks outside, they see that everything has been changed since their loved one died – not just for them but for everyone. that’s how these communities witness, and mirror, grief. they are showing in a tangible way that someone else’s death matters. the loss is made visible.”
WOW. that is deep understanding of what someone experiencing a loss is going through. hardly a day goes by without tears for my dad, especially since i also seem to be mourning the loss of my mom all over again. there are, of course, very good memories coming up too. i loved well and was loved well back.
november 30 at a local hotel. il natale è arrivato in italia!
[quote by david kessler, from article “our experience of grief is unique as a fingerprint”]
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