The light is different now. Winter recedes and with it the dark evening skies. The electricity of la bella stagione begins to fill the air.
Saturday evening I picked up my lovely new bicycle and took it for an inaugural spin. There is something magical about cycling through the quiet city streets at dinner time, and in Italy, on a brand new bicycle, well, what could be more magical than that? If the Italians weren’t so fearful of fresh air, it would have been warm enough for open windows in the kitchen and I would have heard the sounds of pots and pans, the clatter of dishes. Voices and silverware. But I will have to wait another month or two for that. Still empty trees flashed by, and behind them a deep blue sky luminous with the promise of spring.
The boys were away and mostly I am happy to have a day or two to myself but sometimes I miss them the way I might miss an arm or a lung or a piece of my heart if someone were to take it away for the weekend. No matter what I do, something is missing. If I go out, there is that tugging feeling that I have forgotten something terribly important. If I stay in, it’s too quiet, and even Lou roams the rooms, wondering where they went.
Sunday was rainy and grey but it cleared up again before they returned, arriving earlier than expected, and there was time for a jaunt into the center to our favorite ice cream shop.
An ice cream makes everything right again, doesn’t it? There is something magical about an ice cream cone just before dinner, too.