A Mediterranean moment

In dark days we must dream with open eyes. I want to stay committed to sharing beautiful thoughts and imagery on the blog without ignoring what’s going on in our world. When everything has gotten so overwhelming in these past weeks, I like to return to this specific moment:

My new friends and I had taken the train for the day, it was a Sunday in late September and I had only been living in Rome a couple of weeks. The weather was beautiful that day, sunshine and still hot as if it were summer. I changed into my swimsuit in the train bathroom, and we walked straight from the station to the beach, where we sat for a while until my friend decided she wanted to buy a swimsuit, since she hadn’t packed hers that day. I walked with her to a store I had seen with beach supplies, and asked in Italian if they had any left. The shopkeeper said no and directed us to a different store up the street, where the woman took one look at my friend’s chest and said something equivalent to ‘I don’t know if we have that size.’ But for the next half hour she enthusiastically pulled different tops and bottoms for my friend to try, assessing the fit of each one and making recommendations based on how they looked. We landed on one and even got an end-of-season discount. It was one of the many moments that day that I was grateful for knowing Italian, and for the kindness of the people in that small beach town of Santa Marinella. 

We returned to the beach, swimsuits on, and lay in the sun for a bit to warm up before we braved the water. I was so excited to get in. This was the moment I had been dreaming about since making plans to return to Italy for the fall. The only thing I wanted to do was swim in the sea, followed by a cold glass of white wine and a plate of spaghetti alle vongole, al fresco. Summer staples in Italy that I wanted to enjoy before it turned to fall. I didn’t care what I did after that, as long as I had my moment in the Mediterranean. 

After the sun had warmed us, my friend and I waded in. The crisp, clear water felt refreshing and I went further, eventually counting to three and diving in. I was reminded of the quote saltwater heals all as I came up for air and felt peace. It was one of those moments, which don’t come often, where all was right in the world and I was free to simply live in the present. We floated on our backs and talked about how we had arrived to this moment, how Italy had called us and we had answered. The blue water sparkled from the sun and I slowly moved my arms back and forth underwater, admiring my rings from above. Being out from shore gave us the sense that we were alone, the shore and the problems of life left waiting for us beyond this space and time. 

After an hour in the water, we returned to our towels on the beach and laid there until lunchtime. When our stomachs started growling, we walked from the beach to the town, and checked the menus at each of the three restaurants on the square, deciding on one with generous outdoor seating. They were busy and short-staffed so it turned into a very long lunch, but it felt leisurely and relaxing as my hair dried from the saltwater and I sipped that cold glass of white wine I had been waiting all summer for. When our pasta arrived, I happily twirled my spaghetti and ate every last mussel, admiring the light reflecting off the shells. We all licked every last drip from our plates before walking inside to pay the bill.

Returning to that moment I was floating in the Mediterranean with my friend, a dream realized as I had made it back to Italy and to the sea, brings me peace and confidence. I say confidence because it was something I thought about for so long, I dreamed about it and longed for it and imagined it, and it had happened.