When Rain Comes...

Just something I began writing from when I was still in Italy. It's already been a full month since I've been back and I'm happy more than ever that I documented what I saw from my window, I won't get to see it for some time. Or perhaps ever.

I'm almost beginning to wonder if there is something in the rain because the Italians have a way of scurrying about the streets like God is going to make it flood again and if they don't hurry they will miss the Ark.
Well it's not like that, but it's the closest thing to a visual I can give you.

Across from my bedroom view there is an old man that looks out of his window on the 5th floor everyday. Always consoling his hands with his head, looking like he doesn't know what to look for beneath his window; but he stares for a good 5 minutes looking at passers-by. A woman who occupies the same flat is often hanging tons of laundry, of which most of the contents hanging up do not resemble any article of clothing the older man wears, or the older woman wears. I sometimes sit outside on the balcony to wave at him, but he never makes any direct eye contact, but every morning when I'm up, or doing my laundry I see him and wonder what is going through his mind.

I think I intentionally wanted to make the first moment he and I exchanged a polite wave, would emulate that of "Under the Tuscan Sun" with Diane Lane. She finally gets the old man to wave at her, and it was a sweet moment. I guess that wasn't meant to be our meet cute.

Three floors down from them is a woman that in the late of night is on her computer, typing away. Maybe she's a novelist, or maybe she's someone who can't get to sleep at night. She's always identifiable by the tiny space of window that is open and her window light glowing. Most people shut their shutters at night, on a scheduled routine. I think it's to shut out the world and be closed off, but it's probably more for them to not have to wake up to sunlight in their window in the early morning hours.

The seagulls even have a resting place. Every morning, afternoon, and late afternoon the seagulls prop themselves up on probably the largest roof of the building in front of me. Squawking and flying around to reclaim their posts. They fly around with such purpose, every day they know they'll meet in the same place, perhaps poop in the same place, and maybe; just maybe, eat something a little different from the corner food market. The less and less I think of them as pesky birds, I start to take them as a peaceful alarm clock. I love the sound of them squawking because then I know the day is about to start.

Down my line of view there is the church clock tower chiming away at every hour and half hour. Even that is a good reminder of staying calm, being calm, and embracing the little moments. I know I am not going to hear any clock towers when I go home, so I need to take it in. I stand on the balcony often just to look below me and see the people walking. Hearing the mopeds roar up and down the street. Hearing the loud metal shutters roll up as the day light breaks in. I am so going to miss all of this.

People scurry with their 3 feet wide umbrellas protecting them from the tiny drops of rain. No one likes the rain here, and they look at me strange when I walk around with only a hood to cover my head. Umbrellas are cumbersome, they take up too much space and often leave me more wet than dry when I'm under one. I remember it pouring so badly after a Friday morning market and I ran into a student, sweet older lady named Lucy, and we walked through the market as she gripped her tiny little hands around my arm. I felt as if I were a giant compared to her. She scoured the market with me to help me look for a new hat, soon after the rain came down hard, and we were side stepping under every little tent that had clothes under it. As we walked back home, Lucy insisted on getting me an umbrella from one of the stores. She fought me and was really persistent in getting me one. I made it seem like a smaller umbrella would suffice and she kept trying to offer a larger umbrella. She finally conceded and got the smaller one for me and we went on our way. Out of respect and gratefulness to her, I propped open my umbrella until we separated and walked down different streets. I found the rain in Italy to be refreshing. I would take walks in the rain all bundled up so as to not catch a cold, but I think I embraced it that much more because everyone else seemed to run from it.


  1. your writing makes me want to go there right now!

    1. If you decide to go, I will go with you! :)


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