do you believe in luck?
i’m starting to believe in something.
“You changed. Rome was different to you this time around.”
“Can I tell you something that I learned?”
“What?”
“That I don’t have to give up if something isn’t working out immediately. That I don’t have to walk away. That I can just…give it time.”
My friends,
I’m currently writing this letter to you in a different place. I’m sitting at my kitchen table in the apartment I have rented out for the month by the sea. It’s a rainy Saturday night, and I have my balcony doors and windows open so I can smell the rain and the seaside breeze.
Is there anything better than witnessing a September thunderstorm in a small town by the water? The sky gets dramatic. The clouds sit on top of the mountains, the waves get bigger and bigger. The wind moves the church bells, and it feels like something is coming. I immediately shut the windows and the balcony door when I hear the first crack of thunder. Then, the rain starts to fall. And all of the sudden, it’s beautiful. And all of the sudden, I want to open the door of my balcony and all of my windows again.
The man at my favourite fruit stand is teaching me the different names of fruit in Italian. Limone (our favourite), pesche (I stop to buy 2 on my way to the beach every morning), la banana for one banana, and banane for two bananas. It’s only been a few days, but he might be my favourite.
My other favourite thing to do, is to stand at the bar and drink my café beside the men who go off to work in the morning. I too, am off going Somewhere. Where? That I never know. But standing next to them without removing my sunglasses, always makes me feel like I’m Someone. I belong here, too.
Can I ask you something? Do you ever feel like your life has fell out of your control? And I mean this in the sense of endlessly trying to make Something happen. Whether it’s a job, or whether it’s making more money.
Like pushing a boulder. My best friend puts it so well.
And as much hope and as much blind faith that I have the universe, in spirits, and in Rose helping me out from above. Sometimes, I think it’s easier to shut the doors and windows and hide underneath the safety of my white blanket, and be woken up when everything doesn’t seem so unsure, uncertain, and uncomfortable anymore. After the storm.
I’ve also realized something. I realized that I am someone who can feel every range of emotion humanly possible in the span of one day. I blame this on being a Gemini, on being a writer, and also on being myself.
I wake up cranky and as the poster child of existential doom in the morning. Then, I have my coffee and write my morning gratitude list. All of the sudden, I am euphoric. Then, I think about all of the people I would call to tell them what I’m thankful for. I realize that I can’t, I realize that it doesn’t have the same effect, and then I feel like I am missing something. Like I’m always missing something.
I go to the beach, and I lie underneath the red umbrella. I hydrate and glow. I write some more, my friend back home messages me to ask what’s on my agenda for the day. I am so thankful for her.
“Beach day” I tell her. I feel guilty for being happy. I feel guilty because I know so many people would love to have this moment. This moment with the glittering water and the pastel coloured buildings. The heat of the September sun beating down on me. Then I feel bad for feeling guilty, and I wonder if this is a question of my own self worth. But this is my new life, I keep reminding myself.
What would he tell me? Sometimes I like to imagine. I like to imagine myself back in the corner spot, head in my hands, looking up at him. I’d imagine he would tell me something along the lines of - just let it go. There’s no use planning, there’s no use forcing. Everything will just happen naturally on its own. I’d sigh, because it was the answer I expected. And not the answer I was looking for.
This is why I am a writer. The emotions, the thoughts, the feelings. They all need to go somewhere.
“Do you believe in luck?”
The man at the beach asks me. We’re swimming in the rocky beaches of the Ligurian sea. The 5 pm sun shines down on us, and the beachgoers are packing up for aperitivo time.
It’s a great question, but one that has a very layered answer. Or rather, my Gemini mind has a very layered answer.
“I have to think about what I’m going to say before I answer that. Do you?”
“I believe in working hard. But I believe that the universe takes over. You give in a little bit, you do your part, and the universe takes care of the rest. Karma. I believe in karma.”
“That’s a great answer.”
It’s interesting, isn’t it? The minute you decide to let go of a certain energy - how quickly you attract another one. The universe always wants to see you win - a quote I keep reminding myself of lately.
The sun starts to set and me and the Man From The Beach decide to get wine. We decide to get wine, we decide to get focaccia, we decide to get martinis, and we decide to kiss.
“Dirty with vodka.” His go-to, and, of course, mine.
“You know what they say when a girl loves dirty martinis?” I don’t, and thinking of my past history - I’m scared for what he’s going to follow this up with.
“Marry her.”
I start to laugh. I’m relieved.
There’s something about this man that makes it easy to be myself. Easy to open up to. Maybe it was the sun and the saltwater, but maybe I’m really just letting go. Of the past, and of all the expectations.
I love this small town. I love walking up the one winding road. I love seeing the 3 cafes, the 2 bars, and the 2 or 3 trattorias. Everyone smiles and waves at each other, the cars and scooters stop for you while you’re crossing the road. The old men wear linen and gather in the church square, while the old women wear dresses and smoke cigarettes and gossip.
It’s late in the evening. We sit on his balcony, an ashtray and remnants from his mini bar sprawl on the table between us.
“Do you want to read something?” I pull up What Isn’t Ours. My piece of choice when I decide it’s safe to let someone know who I am. Written words always do more than spoken.
“I do, but I’d rather you read it out loud to me.”
Thankful for the wine and the martinis that have eased my nerves, I smile, I take a breath, and I read.
Time. He tells me that it’s the most important thing in the world. And I know this, but I won’t let him know that he is right.
It’s silent between us, but only for a few moments. The lights on the harbor, the calm breeze, the midnight sea.
He looks out to the water and nods. “I understand now.”
“Understand what?”
“Why you are the way you are. You just…you put it out there. There’s nothing for you to hide.”
Home. Understanding.
“I understand. I understand why you’re scared now. Of leaving. But Emmy? You’re going to carve out those pieces of home, that feeling, wherever you are and wherever you go. It won’t look like home did when we were younger. That home we had growing up. With our mom, with our dad, with our sister. But that understanding. You’ll feel it everywhere.”
It’s past midnight, and I decide to walk home. In my white dress, up the winding street, past the church, past its bells. Right by those pastel coloured apartment buildings and the mountains in the background.
I hang the silk on the back of my bedroom door, and climb into bed alone. I’m starting to believe in something.