Everyday, Elena sits, leaning her elbows on the windowsill of her second story flat, directly above the front entryway. This tiny, birdlike woman with sun speckled skin and pale hair, watches with open shutters as her modest world moves along on the street below. She folds laundry, mends clothes, and waters courtyard flowers from her perch. Upon catching a glimpse of a familiar face, she shouts with surprising force and clarity, holding countless daily conversations with neighbors in the street or on nearby balconies. Despite her bonhomie and vivaciousness, Elena lives alone. She had loved and lost many years ago and perhaps as a result, she has become comfortable on her own... strong. Her nephew Alessandro visits daily, picking up his clean shirts that Elena's frail yet capable hands have lovingly washed. As Alessandro leans down to kiss Elena's papery cheek, their conversation echoes through every centimeter of the three flat building (and possibly, a few neighboring buildings as Alessandro had inherited Elena's tendency towards extraordinarily loud speech.)
Elena was a dream neighbor for one hoping to learn Italian. My days began as I woke to Elena's voice in the next apartment. I drank my morning cafe while shamelessly eavesdropping, I waved goodbye to her in her window as I headed out, and when I came home, I looked for her and listened for her deafening "Ciao!!!"
Sometime though, when one lets go of a dream, it is not just the obvious that is missed. Sometimes it is all the little things, like a small table on the roof, or a plant on a balcony, or the smiling bank guard and his dog at the corner, or the quiet walk to the bike path, or the garden shop two blocks away, or the smell of earth and sage or the taste of salt in the air. Or sometimes, it is simply a petite old woman in a second story window, fluttering her hands in welcome as you unlock the front gate, the woman who leaves her window to throw open her door as you race up the steps to your own door, the woman who stops you in your haste, reaching her slight hands up to cup your chin.
"Ah, Bella!" She says, as if to say...
"What took you so long?"
