On Your Mark… Get Set… And Ready To Go!

3…It is hard to believe the first of the Trilogy is here, the first of the last largest number of ‘Days To Go’ that this show will ever see is here.

The number that is most emphasized in a countdown as the point of no return, the point of total awareness, of body poised ready to spring into action and from action to present and from present right into the past as it becomes a memory another series of stories or of threads that weave the unique fabric of you.

I sit here with a head and a heart full of Wonder. Filled with so many things this morning, having come home a little early from work yesterday to get the apartment ready to receive house guests as both Bryn and I are having people arrive from out of town to see the show. So I head to the corner market one last time to buy food for our guests.

My publisher is coming with my book. It will be the first time I will see the book and hold it in my hands, and I am oddly calm, and silently the proudest Papa in the room, there is such a easy joy when something has taken on a life of its own a point of just being.

No longer is it odd to even say those words that used to catch me unawares, like ‘my publisher’ or ‘I’m writing a book’…I can only imagine it is the way first time parents must feel caught unawares of the most natural of things yet when it happens to you there is a period of adjustment to getting used to being included in this group.

Last night, as I have done countless times in every city, town, village, place, apartment, house, or hotel I have every lived in, I started doing things for ‘the last time’ again. And I noticed with a Joy and an Awesome respect how the people of this little town-that-could have worked their magic on me. Small unspoken considerations are becoming a thing of the past in so many countries. Small considerations of daily life is what impresses me about this town.

The way each terrace and balcony stacked on top of each other are beautifully displayed with pride and outward affection for color and plants, a personal signature sent out to the world what can be achieved with a little patience and consideration of time to grow. And the beauty we as passers-by get to drink in because of this. They may not own land, but they do own pride. The generational gap, that is non-existent as I watch a grown teenager take his grandfather for a slow and deliberate walk around the neighborhood, patiently holding his arm as they speak and move at a pace that for most teenagers would be crippling; yet he shows such a respect and a reverence to be able to share time with his elder.

Watching for the last time at the grocery store which I found to be tiny at first (6 small aisles with a butcher and a bakery in the back). Watching the baker, the same beautiful young lady who has been at the counter every time I have shopped there, hand cut a quarter of a larger round of hand made bread, but wait with the knife poised on the incision as she looks to the local buyer and allows him to tell her that he would like just a half an inch more, and they speak about the day as the other people patiently wait, (not tapping their feet or looking at their watches).

The Daughter who has brought her elderly mother to the market (as she has done countless times after her work day), and seeing her allow her mother this freedom of buying her own food for the evening meal. How they watch each when the other is not looking, taking the bag of fresh green-beans and placing it on their side of the divider on the conveyor belt to pay for them, never speaking about why or who can or should pay. It is a silent dance they have done for years.

The checkout lady who normally never bags any groceries for anyone. In Italy you do it for yourself. But she has come to know me and my American Italian accent, and now she always stops and helps me bag my things, knowing that I am more than a tourist her,e and also just wants in her unspoken way to show me a respect for my kindness to her when I have always engaged her with my wretched Italian and I make her laugh at the simplest things, like trying to find the correct change for her. I see the other shoppers are trying to figure out “who I am” as this is just never done by a checkout person. I silently smile and find myself welling up with a pang of emotion.

The neighbors who will soon be rid of the ‘two ragazzi’ on level four of their apartment block. These families who have had to suffer through their uninvited share of a few late night parties we have had on our balcony (there seems to have been a large number of birthdays in our production team these past two months) and since we have a large apartment with a wrap-around balcony, we are the party place. So I am happy that the neighbors will have some peaceful nights starting next week, and silently I thank them for their patience and kindness. But I do wonder who is going to water all of the plants Bryn and I have bought to display proudly on our balcony.

Hmmmmm …maybe I shall leave them at the front doorstep of the neighbors when we leave as just a small consideration of thanks for letting us call this wonderful place our home for 3 months.

3 is a big little number to honor all the wonderful small considerations that make Pescara, Pescara.

Grazie.