Italian Confinement Day 60
Italy touches my heart. As we all become weary of this lockdown, new rainbows, drawn by children, appear in my town telling us “All will be well.” And it is true. Like many in Umbria, I am alive. I am in good health. I am well. Living in this less touristed region of Italy, we have been spared the worst effects of this terrible virus. We have had zero new cases for several days now. We are hoping that we have broken the back of the contagion.
This lock down has forced me to slow down. My breath and activities are now in sync. Nobody has to tell me to stop and take a deep breath in, and breathe out. Miraculously, breathing now happens naturally. My energetic drive to go somewhere, anywhere, and get something done, anything, has faded. I have time. There is no rush. I find myself meandering in front of time rather than racing after it, trying to grab it by the shirt tails to make it stop. Life feels more manageable. Not being able to go anywhere, points out the fact that I really don’t need to go anywhere. People in this small town have always been amazed by my frantic energy to go to new places and see new things. “Con calma, Susan,” they would say to me. Go calmly, Susan. They don’t need to say that any more.
With this new found sense of calm, I am noticing things that I never noticed before. Small things of beauty touch me.
I find beauty in places that I previously ignored. The green color of the trees wraps its arms around me as I walk by, and whispers to me that all is well. Spring is here. Rebirth is ever present.
I notice an old door leaning against a wall with a small poppy growing in a crack between the old stones. How did the poppy survive in that stark place? Where did the door come from? Where will it end up? So many stories in my town that go untold as I have walked past in a hurry to do the next thing.
When I allow it, Italy touches me.
One more day.
