Finding myself in Venice, Italy

 

Finding myself in Venice

When I flew into Italy with my husband I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The trip had been an attempt to pretend we still felt an anniversary was worth celebrating, although we had completely forgot to celebrate in a few years. Maybe he realised I was feeling more detached, from him, the house and even our children, or just maybe he had seen such a good deal on the Internet that he didn’t resist sweeping me off to Venice. Anyway, when we got there I was nervous, for years we hadn’t been really alone, not since the kids had been born, so I didn’t even remember what we used to talk about before all had gone to diapers and pacifiers, schools and textbooks and such.

 A late evening wander around Venice showed us a labyrinth of streets opening to huge squares, many dominated by wonderful little churches. The buildings seemed all a bit faded, with paints that had one day been strong and alive but were now just a pale shadow of colour, but they had personality. Narrow tall buildings, quirky and desolated, but full of life at the same time, with clothes hanging between buildings, providing a much needed shade in those sunny days, and loud voices in every corner.  We wandered around almost in silence, breathing in the moist heat that seemed to burn the air around us, so hot it was that day. We ate a delicious ice cream leaning against the sides of Rialto Bridge, watching the gondolas go by and listening to the excited chatter of tourists still enjoying the hundreds of shops nearby and later, when we were going back to the hotel, we sat on a bench along the way, overlooking the water. The moon was high and fat, and was reflected in the surface of the calm waters as if it was looking at itself in the mirror. The heat was almost unbearable and I kept feeling my clothes clinging to my body and couldn’t think of anything else but another ice cream. Suddenly a guttural sound came from nowhere, followed by a sudden flash of light that seemed to scare the moon that went to hide behind the clouds. Another thunder and the world simply seemed to burst. The rain was so heavy that it flooded the pavement in seconds, and when a lightning ripped through the skies and speared the water, it was as frightening as amazing. I felt Nature’s fight all around me and for a moment I even forgot I was being soaked by the rain, until my husband dragged me by the arm to a sheltered corner. I felt my heart racing from the surprise and the excitement of the storm. I had never seen anything so powerful, so different and in an instant I felt the urge to write about it. I hadn’t felt the urge to write for years, not since I settled down in my life as a mother and a wife. I turned to my husband and asked: “Do you remember how I used to write?” and he nodded, inquisitively. “I want to start doing that again” I said, feeling self-conscious of how stupid it seemed to want to do something for myself when I hardly had time. But I remembered how alive I used to feel when I let my characters dictate the course of stories, and fill my life with different existences, some of which I loved to the point I missed them, as if they were real people, others I hated with passionate anger. But all was with passion, a passion I hadn’t felt burning inside for too long.  John, my husband looked out to the water that kept receiving the lightning stoically and finally murmured: “We can turn the outhouse into an office for you to write without the kids bothering you”, and his smile made me realise he was happy too I wanted to be that woman again. I like to think he missed me too, the woman I had been before life had come in and I had let it sweep me under a blanket of responsibility. I realised, whilst looking at that fantastic show of nature’s strength, that I too could be who I had once been, the woman my husband had fell in love with, and surely missed. We both missed her, but when the rain finally subsided and we went to the hotel, we found her again in each other’s arms and by the morning we had found very much alive the love we both had thought burned out.

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