A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.
Charles Darwin
I am back in the land of deadlines, time constraints, responsibilities, traffic and exhaustion and I miss my saints, Peter and James. The Chicago days are growing shorter, the sun weaker and the leaves are beginning to show signs of autumn. The richness of Tuscany seems a galaxy away, but I wonder.. Did I truly appreciated the rolling Tuscan hills as I trudged up and down them, swearing and sweating all the way?
A beautiful, fat, harvest moon has been hanging low over my city these past few evenings. A couple of nights ago, I had finished teaching in the north shore and was driving home alongside Lake Michigan. I rolled my window down and stretched my hand out into the sweet, humid, night air and I drank in the sight of a rotund moon lazily rising and reflecting brilliantly off of the gentle lake waters. "I should stop," I thought. "I should park my car, put my feet in the water and admire the same beautiful moon that rose above St. Peters Square only 7 hours ago."
But I didn't stop... I was tired, and so that moment slipped by me.
*****
(a continuation of the previous post unconditional..)
My fingers has turned to white prunes and I had begun to shiver. I had left the affectionate cheese-eating kittens a few miles behind, while the previously raging storm had become a steady, gentle rain. I walked through quiet, empty fields, rain drops bouncing off my nose, and I smiled to myself as I purposefully and childishly stomped in each puddle. Though my spirits were high, my teeth were beginning to chatter and I was soaked to the bone by the time I stumbled into Abbadia-a-Isola. As I wandered into the empty, tiny town, a thin, older woman with frizzy, strawberry-blonde hair peeked her head out of a door and asked if I was a pilgrim. I said yes and asked if she had seen any others before me that day and as I was asking her about Gilles and Nicoline, I heard their voices shout my name from inside. I happily followed the woman, Elena, inside and up a flight of stairs, warmth and delicious smells luring me onward.
An hour later, after I had lingered under a hot shower, Gilles, Nicoline, Serge, Angela, our newly acquired Lorenzo, and I sat in chairs in a semicircle as Elena and Ana kneeled, washing and kissing our feet. Exuberant Elena and her shorter, more tranquil, dark-haired friend, Ana, explained that as members of the Confraternita of Saint James, their job is to welcome and care for the weary pilgrim as they would welcome and care for Christ. After eating two large bowls of Elena's Christ worthy, heavenly flavored minestrone for dinner, I slept deeply and peacefully through the night.
As a result of the quirks of the Confraternita's scheduling rotation, the six of us happily found ourselves once again as guests of the gentile Elena and Ana in the majestic, hilltop town of Radicofani. Due to the addition of Ana's affable and slightly irreverent husband, Gaspare, dinner was a loud, warm and hilarious event. Throughout the evening, I watched as Elena told stories vivaciously, her joie de vivre showing in every line of her body. I observed as Ana leaned her head towards Elena and Gaspare protectively covered Elena's hand with his and I saw in those small gestures, years of friendship and love. When I learned later that Elena had been very sick, nearly to the point of dying, I understood better the light in her eyes and the attentive love radiating from her friends.
Towards the end of the evening, after eating ridiculous amounts of delicious minestrone and arancini, Gaspare introduced us all to the spicy warmth of Grappa. He placed dainty cups in front of each of us and a much larger glass in front of himself and proceeded to fill our cups multiple times as we toasted friendship, love, and God. And as we raised our glasses, my heart took a photograph. I have brought home a bottle of Grappa. Perhaps this weekend I will steal back my missed moment with the moon. Perhaps I will take my Grappa to the lakefront and raise a glass towards my Peter.
"Jen, make sure it's a small glass though.. That stuff is strong and we don't want you drowning or getting arrested for public intoxication..."
"Gee thanks Peter. I'll keep that in mind..."
I have drunken deep of joy,
And I will taste no other wine tonight.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
