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Packing

So many things, moments, snapshots I want to pack in my suitcase, burrow deep in my pockets, drill into memory, which seems to become a hazy mist the older I get, and try as I might reach for it, the present pushes me forward with such vehemence that any clinging behind only tends to sever me into pieces. Perhaps this is life with children. There is nothing but now, nothing but this minute, until the day collides hard with your pillow and you fall into something deeper than sleep until you are pulled, yanked, ripped awake again.

But I want to catch something, hook some things. That is what this blog is, has been. A place to record this crazy adventure; a different kind of album to flip through when the years turn grey.

Italy.

Rome.

Bella.

I have learned that you must not drink espresso too slowly.

I have learned that it is never too early to inhale chocolate.

I have learned how to cook the perfect pasta and how blue cheese is sometimes all you need.

I have learned that no matter how many times I try the shops will not be open at siesta.

I have learned that life can be perfect with just enough and needing more is not essential.

I have learned that clothes on the line come with a freshness that no dryer can ever give.

I have learned that eating is an art and wine a simple brushstroke.

I have learned that potato pizza is just about the best you can get.

I have learned that you don’t need to speak a language well if you just pretend you are in a silent movie and act everything out.

But most importantly, I  have learned that you only have one passion and you must take it with you, always.

 

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