Saying goodbye

This morning, Frances left for a few days in Milan to see friends. I'll be gone by the time she gets back. She knocked on my door at about 10 am and we said our goodbyes with me dressed in pink pyjamas.  She left me a surprise in the kitchen, though: a signed black and white print of one of the olive trees she photographed with a pinhole camera and which she printed in a darkroom at the Accademia delle Arte the old fashioned way.

Around 3 o'clock, Barbara came knocking on my door. I was taking a nap. She said, how can you sleep on your last day here? Well, I was so excited after such a busy day yesterday; I didn't get to sleep till after 4 am. 

She, too, had a little surprise for me. a little bag contained a lovely neck scarf -- striped with a few silver threads, cause she knows I like bling -- and a tiny, perfect pannetone in a tiny perfect little Tre Marie box, wrapped with an orange ribbon. When I open it, the fragrance alone will be enough to propel me back to the kitchen here in Martignano. (We went through two full-size ones.)

A little later I headed out to Calimera. Roberta's mother had invited me for coffee. I stepped out, and Uccia, who lives two doors down from us, told me she'd come to the exhibit at Piazza Palmieri the other night and had heard me read my 100 word narrative. She said it had touched her and threw her arms around me. I stopped across the street to say goodbye to Maria and Rosario. Maria's eyes were moist, and Rosario asked me for a copy of the narrative.

In Calimera I had a couple of lovely hours with Roberta and her mother, Maria, and Francesco, her boyfriend, came to see me off. (He’s also one of the key people in this 100-word New Page project.)

It's feels strange to have so much to say to people that I met only weeks ago. It feels good. I feel enriched.



My young friends, Roberta and Franceso



Frances, me and Barbara and our hostess Paola introducing us during our exhibit at Palazzo Palmieri