Today is the day. After three weeks in my condo (of which I
have been in town for only six days total) I have time to open the box. I
wanted to wait until I could really enjoy it. This box was the one that was
most important. If the moving truck had randomly caught fire on the way to
Wisconsin, this is the box I would have told them to save. It is only a few
inches deep and the length of my arm, but what it holds are the tokens of my
happiest days.
I pull the tape.
Dov’é il
ponte? Che ore sono? My Italian phrase book is first, with all my
notations. A sheet of notebook paper that was clearly touched, scribbled on,
folded and refolded falls out. All of my train station notes from the entire
trip.
Spezia to Riomag leave SMN 6:08 a.m.
arrive 10:08 a.m.
9:13 to CAMUCIA
14:34 from CAMUCIA to MPUL arrive 15:24 (3:30)
MPULCIA to FLSMN 18:03 arrive 20:39
Vicchio 13:24 arrive 14:20. Call Danny’s cell.
Next is my Lonely Planet Florence guide. It looks nearly
new, barring my comments inside. I did the No.1 thing to do—the Uffizi gallery.
Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. My God
is she glorious. Textbooks don’t do her justice…. But I missed No. 2. Climbing
Brunelleschi’s dome. Il Duomo. No
worries. In April I will climb the 463 steps.
I pull out a silver box of my mother’s that she was going
to throw out until I told her I remember playing with it as a young girl.
Instead of holding my mother’s jewelry, it now contains my remaining Euros I
never converted back to dollars. I want to be prepared in case I decide to spontaneously
fly back one day. Like I nearly did this year for the Fourth of July. I had the
ticket selected. All I had to do was click and I would have been on my way….
And then there they are. My three black Moleskine
notebooks. Probably the most precious items I possess. Every thought and every
moment I jotted down on the same type of notebook Hemingway used.
“June 28th, 2010 4:30 a.m. EST—I never knew
something this big could take off the ground. My seatmate is a lovely young
woman—petite and ever so European. She’s headed for Paris to complete her art
history research project….”
“I am in love with this place. It is true: you can love to
things equivalently and wholly. Cinque Terre reflects the other half of me. The
part that likes things simple. Gas stove, no television. Relying on people for
entertainment. I am drawn to the city of Florence because of its vibrancy, but
I am equally drawn to Cinque because of its solitude. In neither place do I
feel lonely, but nor do I feel truly complete. I yearn for Florence while in
Cinque. I desire Cinque when in Florence. It is perfect.”
“Ivo is an interesting man. I’ve found my thesis.”
Trinkets from the Galleria
dell’Accademia. David, David, David. The one man I will love forever and
wholly because he will never disappoint me. My “Dress Me Up” David magnets
(they were too cute/funny to pass up), bookmark featuring only David’s backside
(It is just as beautiful as the front but gets significantly less attention.
Unfortunate.).
Sea glass from the beach in Cinque Terre. The printed bag
from my pearl earrings I bought on the Ponte
Vecchio. A glass tray from the famous Venetian island of Murano.
Every item has a memory attached to it, has the power to
transport me back. Only eight more months. My 24th birthday will be
spent in la terra della mia vita. And
that is the only thing I could wish for.