Some things you don’t take photos of. They are too real and hit a visceral button that brings on roll after roll of images.
This Tiny old brown and black birdlike woman with legs as thin as twigs was prancing down the promenade. her arms swinging, the flower print scarf hiding her hair. Balancing on her head – no a part of her – was a white plastic bag of groceries.
I cry. It has been years since my grandmother walked into her house from the yard with a basket of clothes on her head. Thats whose face I saw – Grandma – my nonna – the rock of my childhood.
Why today? What makes today different? Is it because we are leaving Pontelandolfo tomorrow?
The women were total opposites. This woman was tiny, thin and probably only 15 years older than I. The only thing she had in common with my grandma was the ability to balance.
Balance – how does one balance living half a year in one world and half in another? Tomorrow morning, October 28, we will be heading back to the USA. The six months in Italy flew by. I am so grounded here that I hate to leave. This morning I made the rounds saying “Ci vediamo aprile” to so many people. They all ask the same question – why do you leave? I don’t really have a good answer.
Balance – I must remain connected to both worlds – no matter where I sleep that night.