Cozy night home

Tonight is the first night of the 19th century festival in Umbertide. I went for a walk around 7pm but things were not getting started for a while.  I came home at 7:30 and knew I was in for the night.  I am tired. Even though there was this slight push to go out and see everything, there was an overriding sense of 'enough'.  I feel glad that I am taking care of myself with kindness.

I can hear people talking and laughing, I hear music, I hear the loud BOOMS of the cannons but I feel perfectly content to be home in my pajamas (and sweater, it's cold).

My mom called before and as I told her about how moving all this beauty is and how I lit 4 candles at the church in Perugia, I started to cry.  I am filled with astonishment of what I am doing.  I also feel as though I am not here alone, that I am being carried by many people, several who are no longer alive.

Like Marjorie, the librarian in our small VT town. She was a dear friend of 10 years. She died in June, died while taking a nap.  She had had heart problems in the past, but this was a shock to many of us, including her doctor.

 She was the first friend I made in Newbury when we bought our house in 2002.  I used to go into the library on Thursday evenings (the only evening it was open) after preparing dinner for the family. I would walk in there, dragging my leg, hunchbacked and say "Sanctuary, sanctuary" and we would laugh.  Instant friends.

There were 2 comfortable leather chairs near a big half circle window where we would sit and talk about life, serious things.  We were each other's confidants.  People who thought they knew us, did not. We used to giggle to each other about it.

During this past winter, when test results weren't looking great and I was feeling like shit, we talked about things we have always wanted to do.  Top of my list....a trip to Europe.  Marjorie wanted to go up to a lake in Canada during the summer.

To keep a short story short, she emailed a friend, the friend emailed that I could stay at her house in Italy, Marjorie emailed me, I ecstatically emailed both of them, I chose September, I stayed up all night to find a cheap airfare, I booked my flight and charged it on credit, not sure how I was going to pay for it.  In the following 6 months I got housesitting jobs, I sold stuff, I saved, my kids worked and gave me money, my brother chipped in, my mother chipped in, a woman I don't even know very well, gave me a check for $50 and said "Eat out one night one me".   The lady whose house I am staying in, her son sent me his Italy cell phone and adapter,  helped me with train/bus information and answered many silly questions via email.

I ran into Marjorie the day before she died at the village post office. She gave me a book on Italy, told me she had been thinking of me and we needed to meet up for breakfast soon.  We hugged, we agreed to email our schedules. I never saw her again.

I brought her umbrella with me and I have the keys to the house on her silver star keychain.  I carry her with me.

 I AM HERE because of many people and much good fortune.  She is just one.

Believe.  :)

Sweet dreams to all.