April 10, 2018: Our third day in here in Amalfi, and this proud night owl and moon child woke up before her alarm yet again. It’s been happening so naturally, so organically, I almost didn’t even notice at first. I was even keeping these night owl eyes closed, hidden from the sun. Then in that split second where you’re between sleeping and waking, the realization slowly crept in that of all things, I was hiding from the Italy sun. And why in the world would you ever want to do that?
Good morning and Buongiorno, from Italy.
These words were the 20-minute journal entry I wrote one morning while sitting alone on our villa balcony. This was the home in which some beautiful souls and myself lived while staying on the Amalfi Coast in Positano, Italy. It may have been the jetlag after spending 24 hours straight in various airports, including a vending machine sponsored slumber party in the Barcelona Terminal, or it could have been the sheer excitement of finally arriving at our destination, who knows. I just kept waking up before my alarm- an act that is truly out of usual character. At home, I so often find myself being the only one awake in the middle of the night. While the world around me sleeps, it’s so easy to settle into the room that is my little corner of the universe and read, write, etc. Last week, in Amalfi, I found myself in the same situation, but in an unexpectedly different way.
At 7:30 in the morning, in the bright light of the rising sun, I was the only one awake, so I decided to take advantage of our once in a lifetime home and start my day on the balcony. It was the length of our entire villa, made of stone, and lined with vines and plants, making our manmade structure seem like it had been part of the Italian land from the very beginning. I went out there, chose my spot, and sat. While listening to the market men banter in Italian with all the cars and Vespas whizzing by to begin their day, I did my morning makeup routine, spending those several minutes looking in a mirror the size of my palm. This was the perfect creative space, so I picked up my journal and wrote the entry you see above, spending the next 20 minutes with a pen in my hand watching where its ballpoint met the paper. To use the rest of my alone-time, while sitting right next to the Italian coast overlooking Mediterranean waters, I decided I would try and read an entire book, specifically, The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kaur, a writer/poet that I adore. This was actually a goal for me and on the to-do list of things I personally wanted to accomplish while in Italy. So, I spent the next amount of time buried in the binding of a book.
Still sitting in the middle of a beautiful foreign land, still on a once-in-a-lifetime journey, still with my eyes on the pages, my nose in the binding, and my mind on the goal,
I arrived at page 82.
“we have been dying
since we got here
and forgot to enjoy the view”
As though I heard Rupi’s voice in my ear, I sat there, staring at the page in awe. It was as though it was written for me. Right there, right then.
I looked up at the shelves of buildings lining the mountainside that have housed multiple generations of families living here.
I looked up to witness the bell of the Santa Maria Assunta Church ring through its tall stone tower. Aged, worn down, and beautiful- as if God had placed it there from day one.
I looked up to watch the sea come to shore with the back-and-forth tide at the beach in the town center, where mother nature met man-made.
I looked up, and there I was- sitting right next to the Italian coast overlooking Mediterranean waters, sitting in the middle of a beautiful foreign land, on a once-in-a-lifetime journey. There I was.
I closed my book and looked out from the balcony of our villa overlooking the Amalfi Coast of Positano, Italy – feeling as though I had really just arrived.
Life is short. Please, enjoy the view.