The Balcony

This is the view from our balcony. However, the static image doesn't capture what this view is to me. It's really the sounds that remind me of where I am. The sound of the kids in the school, the scooters, the chime of the teacher's whistle...I've spend so much time here, in so many stages of my life, that after nine years (my first time in this apartment was June, 2003), the sounds are nostalgic for me. This apartment, this view, it brings back a myriad of memories.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oChAXBS8EHw&feature=g-upl

My first memory of this balcony was upon walking into the apartment before I knew Francesca. I was here by myself, awaiting the arrival of a bus load of Nebraskans who would be here for Benedetta's wedding. I remember trying to find Francesca and walking into what felt like a hugely expansive living room (before the renovation it was almost double the size it is now). The walls were covered with a sort of green, velvety, striped wallpaper which made the walls leading up to the 12' ceilings appear to go on forever. There was a wall of bookshelves, completely full, that covered an entire side of the room, all the way up to the ceiling. Because the room was sort of dark, the books gave it the feeling of a library. When I walked in, Francesca was sitting by herself watching tennis. 

The second memory, about 5 days later, brings back the excitement of the first few days I realized I had a crush on Lorenzo.The fore-mentioned Nebraskans had arrived, the living room was full of them, all male, all circled around an immense block of hash, almost exactly the dimensions of a red brick. Lorenzo was sitting by the door of the balcony, smoking (before my persuasion and the birth of Ella encouraged smoking outside of the Roma house), and I remember making pretty intense eye-contact for the first time. That moment will never leave me. 

The nostalgia of the sounds of the school bring back memories of many hazy mornings during the same trip. After we had all stayed up all night, most nights, all of us Americans, too busy drinking and walking the city to sleep; the sun would come up while we were all standing on the balcony ending our night. After going to bed around 6am, the summer heat and the sounds of the school would wake me promptly at 8am, leaving me in a fog the rest of the day. Five or so espressos later, I was usually cured of the fog.

I love this balcony. I love the memories, the far newer memories of watching Luca learning to crawl in front of the open balcony doors, now playing with Sabina on the same floor. I remember after Benedetta and Trevor's wedding, sitting in the kitchen, exhausted after a full day, all of us eating leftovers from the wedding party. I remember watching Trevor talk with Francesca, Italian rolling of his tongue with ease, laughing with Lorenzo's friends, completely comfortable inside of the culture. I remember thinking, "He is so lucky. He married into such a cool life. I want that." I don't remember that thought having anything to do with Lorenzo specifically, I just remember thinking how different his life was from other people I knew who were married. That it appeared so much more exciting and fulfilling. 

I love this side of my life. I love the family I've fallen into, the family Lorenzo and I are now a part of together and the life of memories that will surround this balcony through the life of my children and maybe even my grandchildren. Now that I've had this moment to stop and breathe, I can revel in my blessings and in the dream I've managed to manifest for myself. For it really was a dream of mine to be able to speak another language and to have a reason to travel throughout my life. Yes, I can judge where I am in my life at nearly 40, I can get down on myself thinking I should be more or should be doing more. But this part, this part I'm happy to celebrate. 

Now that I have a little time on my side, what other dreams can I manifest?