an autumn day
warm sun on my face
traveling back in time
scrolling through the remains of a revolved past
chasing light through photography
It’s not about luck
It’s not a goal to attain
It might seems difficult but is it really
Maybe it’s just a habit
A parcel of soil to tend
Day by day
Where you choose to plant thankfulness
Because it’s a lovely seed
And then you tend to it, through summer and winter
in order to see it grow and bear fruits
And while you’re there, so very busy,
you might notice
that an unattended regret has withered
and all those worries suddenly look way smaller.
It’s not much, really
it’s just a habit
Just a slight change of perspective
that maybe it’s enough
Several years ago, my Argentinian friend offered me a book, without saying anything but with a special light in her eyes. Twenty years have passed and « Women who run with the wolves » by Clarissa Pinkola Estés is still on my night table.
Tonight, while opening it casually, it offered me this timely sentence:
« I know many writers who keep a sentence posted over their desk, and a woman who has written it on a piece of paper that she keeps folded in her shoe. It contains a line from a poem by Charles Simic which represents the key prescription for us all: « Those who cannot howl, will not find their herd ». If you want the wild Woman back, refuse to be captured ».
In three days, it will be 6 months. Half a year.
My first birthday and Gabriele’s have gone by without your phone call. And the first summer without seeing you, without you telling me how you enjoyed the images I sent you. Winter will be here soon and it will bring your birthday with it, the first where I won’t get the chance to ask myself what would make you happy. And the first Christmas without going present shopping together. Then spring will come and Chiara’s birthday with it, without you enquiring about her party. After that, the bulbs you offered me will bloom.
When March comes, the circle of these first twelve months « without » will be complete. Day after day we will have learned – more or less lightheartedly – to live with your absence and to let go of our habits together in order to make room for learning how to feel your presence differently.
In 6 months, the second « life-after » circle will begin, then the third, the fourth and so on, without us noticing. Day by day we will live our lives with your renewed presence by our sides and together, we will create new memories.
Everything will be different on the surface, of course, but maybe not so much so on the inside. Because to me it is cristal clear that you, who have taught me to love the changing seasons and their cycles, you are most certainly there, somewhere, smiling at us as you witness each new leaf sprout in our lives.
Una vertigine: N O V E. Nove come 10 – 1. Come un passo dalla pre-adolescenza. Povero cuore mio. In men che non si dica, i giorni che sembravano non passare mai quando eri piccola tra le mie braccia, si sono trasformati in anni. E che anni! Pieni di scoperte, di allegria, di dolcezza. L’ultimo non è stato facile facile. Eppure siamo sempre qui, decise a cavalcare il cambiamento con grazia e (rinnovata) gioia di vivere.
Come sempre, mi sono divertita molto nel realizzare il tema che avevi scelto per la tua festa e le scintille di gioia che si accendevano nei tuoi occhi scoprendo ogni sopresa, sono state la più bella ricompensa. Buon compleanno, fatina dolce; che altrettanta meraviglia possa accompagnarti a ogni tuo futuro compleanno!
There are moments when words become heavy stones sinking to the bottom instead of reaching the surface, which remains perfectly still. Looking down, you can see them laying down there.
Let it be silence then. Giving time to time. Stitch by stitch, tracing back the original thread. For what it may mean, that’s where I’m at now.