“On the morning of my last day, I woke to, “Ebben, ne andro lontana” from Catalani’s opera, La Wally. My suitcase was packed and I had my bus ticket, yet I sensed that I wasn’t returning to anything. I went out on the balcony and stood before the railing looking out. I was sure it would be the last time. “The bus will be at the end of the road in a few minutes.” I turned around and saw Signora Regina looking at me, “I know”. “Did you know that the view looks different every morning?”, she continued. “Every morning I see it as though I were seeing it for the first time”. “Sometimes it seems as though it is part of a different world”, I said. “Ah! You should see it when the first snow falls.”. “I wish I could.”. “Ill save you a balcony seat.”, she promised.
As I pulled my suitcase down the dirt road, I caught a glimmer of the green bus. The same one I had arrived in only one week ago. I began to think about my co-workers. Each starting their day with a cup of watered down burnt office coffee. I wondered how many times you could drink a cup of watered down burnt office coffee, before deciding to run away to the Italian country side where they had espresso. Real espresso, served in little porcelain cups. I thought about the happiness I felt in Italy, not the fleeting kind but the kind that remains with you always. The bus stopped before me. The doors swung open. “Buongiorno Signorina”, the driver said. “Buongiorno”, I responded standing perfectly still. I held on tightly to my bus ticket. I had been going through the motions of life for so long that something inside me was breaking. Not crumbling to pieces but breaking free. I shook my head at the driver. He looked suprised but said warmly, “Arrivederci Signorina”. I watched his old door fold shut. As I walked back up the dirt road, I realized I had been caught up in a current. The kind most of us get caught in. The kind powered by office cubicles and daily commutes and to do list and on-again-off-again friends and day to day mediocrity. And this was the place where I was able to break away. Here, where canopies look like white frosting and mountains like gods. Where cats sang and all women were beautiful. With a handful of blackberries, I returned to the opera singers house. Uncertain whether I’d stay forever or just until the first snow fall.”
As read by Chris Brady
Only you can live your life. Live your life to the fullest~ Chris Brady