New friend helps me ‘find my way to the end of this very long tunnel’

I made a new friend about 6 weeks ago. He’s a most unexpected friend & yet he brings me immeasurable, yet utterly simplistic joy… You see, 3 or so days per week I allow myself this wonderful pleasure of visiting a café I’ve come to love (Bottega di Pasticceria). I take Caiden to school at precisely 8:15 am each morning & after my walk down jaw-droppingly beautiful, tree-lined Viale Michelangelo I swing into Bottega & order my usual: a cappuccino decaffenato &, sometimes, a brioche vuota (empty croissant – i.e. with no cream or jam inside) or, my favorite, a pasta con mela (apple pastry). I head upstairs & see if the coveted seat gazing onto the Arno is available (rare), or I choose a nearby two-top & dig into whatever book I’m currently engrossed in (recently it was American Dirt & OMG, folks, I hadn’t been this dazzled by a novel in years!!). I read, mostly, & people watch, I chat a bit with some of the familiar staff. Really, I indulge in a lifestyle I’ve never been privy to—that of a person/mother with light work commitments. Better still, I’m among a rare breed whose child goes to school 5 days per glorious week (at least for now, the future is shaky & uncertain with Italy’s “numbers” rising steadily & Tuscany now in the “orange” zone). Regardless, it’s an absolute delight, a previously unfathomable treat to be able to relax & enjoy in such a spoiled way.

In any case, back to my friend. When I’ve had my fill of caffeine & story & fly on a wall-ness to my corner of Italy’s morning ritual, I depart. But before I get even a few steps down the sidewalk I must crane my head into the neighboring scooter shop and, 8 out of 10 times I’m lucky enough to make eye contact with a short, stocky yellow Lab who oftentimes lays at the back of the shop, quite a distance from the front door. And that’s all it takes—one look from him to me, me to him & he’s off his feet & his tank-like, squat-legged body is barreling at me with all its might, racing across a slick concrete floor, as if we’re the oldest of friends… as if I, this virtual American stranger, am his long-lost master. He plows into my legs & through my legs & we begin this 3-5 minute ridiculousness of he grunting & wriggling & circling—while I squeal & scratch & pat & repeat a girlishly high-pitched “hi, hi, hi” or “ciao, ciao, ciao”, in case my buddy needs the translation. My heart soars from our brief interaction & my soul is so inexplicably replenished with doggie love & affection that is, admittedly, absent in my life these days. It makes me miss my own boys so painfully much & I immediately worry about Super & spend the remaining moments of my walk saying a silent prayer that the kindness gods will allow him to live past his 12th birthday, next May, allow him enough time that Caiden & I will get to see him again. I worry then, too, about my Bodie. The big, gorgeous guy who’s scared of his own shadow & was hopelessly attached to me. I hope our departure hasn’t left him with some kind of abandonment issue & try to send mental encouragement to my Bodie Bear that we’ll be home in the not too distant future.

In those silly moments of my unbridled love dance with this sweet, sweet retriever, all the heaviness of the world vanishes. I’m not thinking, or concerned, about my mask or social distancing or the latest regulations handed down from the Italian government or the “numbers” – ugh I’m SO sick.and.tired of worrying about “numbers”; Europe’s, Italy’s, the United States, California’s, Truckee’s. In those moments I’m not petrified that I’ll endure a dejavu of last March whereby little freedoms were stripped from Italy’s people, progressively, day by day, & that swiftly evolved into schools shutting down, country-wide, a move that happened one day so suddenly that it was dumbfounding. I went to pick Caiden up on a Wednesday afternoon, I’ll never forget. Steph was in the States & as I entered the cortile (foyer where parents were required to retrieve their kids) I recall having a soft, but distinct, layer of anxiety blanketing my shoulders. Things were changing fast & all for the worst & I was in a foreign country, separated from my husband & trying to make sense of it all & formulate an intelligent plan of what Caiden & I ought to do next. A teacher said hello as I awaited my son & then lamented— “such a shame about what’s going on, isn’t it?” & she proceeded to break the news that schools were shutting down, at least for the next week or 2 (& we all know how that story went, a week or 2 turned into 3 months/the remainder of the school year). Kids & teachers scrambled somewhat frantically to grab every book, computer, pen & pencil & shove them into backpacks or a parent’s arms as it was strictly forbidden for any person to re-enter the school, for any reason, beyond that afternoon.

For those handful of moments with my new fur-buddy I can just be a gal, who chased a wild dream to live in Italy, who’s just enjoyed a wonderful cafe (coffee) & is now petting an equally wonderful yellow Lab.

I love my special friend & will continue to set aside time for my Bottega break & pet session with Mr. Loving Lab (sheesh, I really ought to find out my pal's name!). After all, we’re wise to cling onto anything that brings us complete respite from the Groundhog Day/Twilight Zone/Punk’d episode that is, often times, this totally peculiar new world we’re navigating. I gather some strength & a small mental reset to continue on, whatever the road ahead has in store. And I remind myself that we will, in the words of my ever-brilliant cousin, we will somehow “find our way to the end of this very long tunnel”.