The Leaving and the Giving
I am leaving parts of myself all over as I pack up to go.
The first piece of me that comes to mind is the echo of my voice in the plaza, particularly in that magic moment when the lights suddenly stroke the square at evening time. I hope their orange halos make my voice glow, too–at least in remembrance. When I'm gone, my sincere wish is that someone says, "Where is that singer of those lovely old tunes? What a joy she was to hear!"
There is also the note I wrote anonymously to our neighbors, thanking them for their lovely garden which tingled me every time I passed it during lockdown. My letter fell through the fence and I wasn't sure if they would ever notice it. How tickled I was one day to see an envelope entitled "Dear neighbour" attached to their fence in response!
Of course, there are the things I gave: the keyboard that I hope will inspire my companion's niece to flit across the keys, or the glow-in-the-dark cubes for Deva's little girl. I hope she sees and connects the stories they tell through their pictures.
For Deva, I reserved some of my favorite Jasmine tea leaves. I hope she sips it slowly as she looks out the window of her new agriturismo.
To Franco, I dedicated my much loved Renoir books. May they be an inspiration of color and light for his next painting.
For Chie, I set aside my tree of life necklace. May it accompany her in her walks through nature and life, helping the many facets of her to reach out even more.
These are some parts of me I have given out. What I truly desire is to remain a sweet note vibrating through the wonderful people I have met... that in my going a tangible sensation of goodness stays behind.
Photo: <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/piro4d-2707530/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2048252">PIRO</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=2048252">Pixabay</a>
Text: Kristen Mastromarchi
Comments
Post a Comment