I am smack dab in the middle of my 40's now, and even though changing hormones are NOT an issue with me yet, i think i'm old enough to use it as a light-hearted excuse for all the times that i can't hold back the tears over things that others think are silly or almost insignificant. So whenever i mention "blasted hormones" in my post, you'll know why.
Last week, i heard the song "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire", officially known as "The Christmas Song". It took me approximately 2 seconds to recognize it, and just as immediately to burst into tears. There are a hundred different things that remind me of our life in Italy, but very few are as emotional to me as hearing that song because of what it reminds me of.
Our church apartment (the "Upper Room") was situated at the "T" of Corso Palladio, the most famous pedestrian street in Vicenza. Whenever we walked out our door, we could either turn right, left, or go straight onto Corso Palladio. Across the street from us was a piazza (a small park) situated in front of a big, beautiful white museum with columns, statues and marble steps around the front. The steps that faced Corso Palladio was our internet spot, the closest location we could go to get on the computer. Which we did multiple times every day. Whether it was warm, cold, sunny, raining, snowing, early morning, late evening, rush hour, whatever. To check the bank balance, email, facebook, make phone calls on skype to friends and family, participate in ladies bible study with Grace Harbor church via skype video, whatever. And besides our internet spot, we would very often (daily) walk on up Corso Palladio and the surrounding neighborhoods. The only supermarket within walking distance was at the opposite end of the street (less than a mile?), and in between was an entire historic and beautiful neighborhood (500-800 year old buildings) of shops that covered everything from very high-end clothing and decorating boutiques to 2 locations of Tutti al Euro (Everything's a Dollar). Just up the street and around the corner was the Piazza Dei Signori where the twice-weekly markets, the Chocolate Festival and the Christmas & Epiphany markets were held. And every Saturday evening Corso Palladio was where the "passagiatta" happened (the evening stroll, where everyone is out walking around seeing and being seen).
And every time we walked out our front door and across the street, there was the chestnut stand, where a lady with short, spiky, flaming red hair (or her husband) was roasting chestnuts. Randall & i bought a bag once, when we had the money, because neither of us had ever had chestnuts that we knew of. One bag was all we ever bought; we weren't impressed so it must be an acquired taste.
So every single weekday (because we were in Italy during the entire fall season, past Christmas & Epiphany), and even on Sunday afternoons during the Christmas season, we saw her (or him) whether we thought about it or not. I wonder if she thought it was weird that we passed by her so often with laptop in hand to go sit on the steps across the street. And so many times i would start singing the chestnut song, either in part or from beginning to end, to whichever family member was with me. Just trying to be light-hearted. And because i've always liked that song, but somehow when you're living in a foreign culture singing a song you've known all your life is comforting.
So since i fell apart over the chestnut song last week, i've been trying to remember if there was any other person that we saw more frequently than the chestnut lady or her husband, and nobody else comes to mind. And what shatters my heart is that i never really attempted to converse with her, except to acknowledge her with a "Buon Giorno" if i caught her eye as i passed by, or the one time we bought the bag of chestnuts from her. It probably seems to most of you reading this, as it does to me as i write this in retrospect, that it should have been a great big "duh" to have tried to talk with her. But if you've read my testimony you'll know that i spent the majority of the 100 days in a sort of crisis mode with life. Thankfully Randall made small attempts, such as on a rainy day he said "Che bello tempo!" (What beautiful weather!), and she replied with a smile, "per un'anatra" (for a duck)."
I have looked up our neighborhood on Google Maps, and you can see our church apartment, the "internet steps" and the chestnut stand; unfortunately it wasn't open when the photo was taken. If we get to go to Italy in November, you'd better believe i'll be buying a bag of chestnuts from her. And attempting to talk to her. If i can hold back the stupid tears long enough to not look like an idiot.
P.S. Just so you understand how sappy and sentimental i am, i couldn't even edit this post without crying. Blasted hormones!
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