Yesterday, I said "ciao for now" to my beloved books. There they are, half my entire life's collection, packed away in boxes ready to take on the journey to Italy even before I do. It is infinitely nerdy to admit, but I am so happy they will be there waiting for me when I get there. In a way, it is kind of a beautiful circle coming together. In those boxes are the cherished stories and lives of people who have taken such chances, made the big move, and embraced adventure.
Some of those books I've read a hundred times, the spines falling apart and every other page dog-earred for reference, none more so than A Thousand Days in Venice by Marlena De Blasi. Hers is my favorite grown-up love story. She is a forty (or fifty?)-something American at the time who falls in love with a stranger in Venice and they have lived there together ever since. Also at the time, she speaks only food-based Italian (sounds like me about four years ago!), and he, very little English. Their story is the most wonderful example of what it means to embrace life, love, and the frustrations of "that achingly lovely city in which they met".
In her book, she speaks about the trials of sorting through the inanimate necessities of life and how it all adds up to those dreaded overweight fees that are too terrible to pay. Fernando, her soon-to-be-husband, advises her to bring "only what is indispensabile". Indispensabile, you can guess, meaning, indispensable. For me, there were two things that had to go on that shipment- my books and my shoes.
P.S. Thank you Massi for diligently stuffing an extra book wherever it would fit and risking putting out your back lifting that red suitcase (entirely full of books). That is true love in my opinion.
Some of those books I've read a hundred times, the spines falling apart and every other page dog-earred for reference, none more so than A Thousand Days in Venice by Marlena De Blasi. Hers is my favorite grown-up love story. She is a forty (or fifty?)-something American at the time who falls in love with a stranger in Venice and they have lived there together ever since. Also at the time, she speaks only food-based Italian (sounds like me about four years ago!), and he, very little English. Their story is the most wonderful example of what it means to embrace life, love, and the frustrations of "that achingly lovely city in which they met".
In her book, she speaks about the trials of sorting through the inanimate necessities of life and how it all adds up to those dreaded overweight fees that are too terrible to pay. Fernando, her soon-to-be-husband, advises her to bring "only what is indispensabile". Indispensabile, you can guess, meaning, indispensable. For me, there were two things that had to go on that shipment- my books and my shoes.
P.S. Thank you Massi for diligently stuffing an extra book wherever it would fit and risking putting out your back lifting that red suitcase (entirely full of books). That is true love in my opinion.
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