Marco went to work early this morning. I heard him rattling around the kitchen, running the shower, running late. Usually when he leaves I go back to sleep, but this morning I could see that the light in the room was different. As soon as he left I got out of bed, opened the shutters, and breathed in deep the morning sunlight. Gone is the paper white sky of the last six, seven, eight months. Have we thrown off the bad weather for good? Is the Mediterranean ready to act like it should?
I ran the water in the kitchen ice cold while I checked the fridge. I drank down that satisfying glass and then made myself a huge breakfast. I haven’t been eating well, or, really, at all, but this morning I was famished.
What you see above was my view while I ate, talking to myself, bits of words and languages, just to feel them in my mouth along with the poached eggs and cheese and bread. I made myself laugh. I ate in silence for a bit, thinking about things. I fantasized about what this day may bring.
I’m fairly certain today will go like all the cloudy, cool days that came before this brilliant one; a repeat client came back with some work, and I’ve got some other things on my list, so I’ll go out to the porch and get started writing under the honeysuckle and I’ll know it’s afternoon because the kids across the way will play in their uncle’s orchard after having had their lunch. But this last hour of sunlight and silence and a hearty meal and the enormous blue sky over Rome has felt like a vacation, and maybe if I can get through my work today I can have a full day of light tomorrow.