In many ways my current trip is a means of revisiting the past. Not because I want to return to those days. No, that isn’t it all. Instead it’s a way for me to actually do justice to places I once only had a chance to briefly visit. As was the case for many things from that time in my life, I wanted more.
So, I’ve returned to Liguria. This is my third time in this area of Italy, but the first time that I’m staying for more than a single night. Almost thirty years ago, after encountering nothing but rainy weather in both Ireland and Germany, my former husband and I committed to driving until we saw the sun. That whimsical and spontaneous approach led to us to Genoa where I fell under the spell of Italy.
Yes, it was sunny, but there was so much more. The people, like the man who gestured to us to follow him when we struggled to find a place to sleep, the beautiful sea, the endless stone steps, and the wine and the food charmed me. I was smitten.
Between that trip and the next trip to Italy, fifteen years passed. We bought a house, graduate school evolved into a career and three sons were born. On that final trip as a family, we returned to Italy, this time primarily to Tuscany. There was a celebratory day trip, however, to Liguria to mark a significant birthday. We had a seaside lunch in Lerici, with local wine and imported friends. It was lovely.
Last Friday, I returned to Lerici, this time on foot from the nearby town where I am staying for a few days. It felt vaguely familiar as I passed through on my way to a more distant village. On my way “home,” hours later, the Saturday market was over and the streets were less crowded. I noticed the terrace of a particular restaurant and am reasonably certain it is the one where we enjoyed lunch years ago.
In my mind I can see the photo that was taken on that day as our family of five stood with our backs to the sea with the castello, or castle, off to the left. I was wearing a black dress, the very same black dress I impulsively threw into my luggage for this very trip, something I hadn’t realized until Friday when I arrived.
Life is funny and unpredictable. All those years ago, I never would have imagined that I’d be spending nearly month in Italy, nearly half of it alone. Who could have known then that I’d let go of a marriage, but hold onto a dress?
I suppose, though, that only one of them still fit.
DelSo 