From Italy with Love

Yesterday, Sofia blew kisses to her Zia from the dock, the boat not so far from us, the kisses sent through the air on wind. I wish I could send you kisses right now, too. That we would all be on a boat, making our way to different corners of Procida. Here, we would stop for a dip in the sea, there we would climb rocks and fish. At the port, we would tie our boat, jump onto the moveable lightweight planks and walk on cobblestone streets beneath tall pastel-colored palazzi with signori sitting on their green iron balconies. There are so many memories here. Too many to recall, although I slip in stories here and there "Do you see that yellow building at the top of the hill, with the green light, and bell tower? That's where mamma & papa got married." All the stories have in common is the beginning of love. How Mimmo and I met, where we had our first apartment, where we were when we decided to get married. The characters in the story show up when we hit the piazza or the port. I need to move through the difficult feelings as I write, as opposed to hiding them, or distracting myself. I keep finding a need for comfort as I approach them - like needing a hot cup of tea with honey and lemon on a dreary, wet winter day. Here the sun shines, even when it's hiding behind clouds, there's more light illuminated in the sky than some of the sunniest Portland or Berkeley days. No one is telling me how to do this exactly, so perhaps I just need to be kind enough to myself to know I will find my way through writing about it. Salvatore, I wrote this on your birthday two days ago: Life continues. The church bells ring. The old couples will be eating gelato on the cement benches in the piazza. The vespas and electric bicycles and ape & macchine whiz their way through narrow cobblestone streets. The sky will change. Your sister will dance on the beach. And, I will feel joy, but I will also always, always wish you were seeing these moments with us. Living them with us. And, I was never one to imagine you older than you were. Because even as a newborn, you were so old. You lived a lifetime in 10 full days with us. And, I will never forget this day in which you came. Happy birthday, my love. We celebrated you today with another short ferry ride across the sea to Procida. I love you forever and always, here and beyond.