Tuesday, August 21, 2012
a church, old and beautiful, in which real candles can be lit in offering and prayer. places where every child is treated like a delightful gift. flowers pushing through every crack. sitting at an outdoor cafe eating a cheeseburger and drinking a beer. lemon trees on balconies. elderly gentlemen with old world manners who tip their hat and step into the street so that you may have the safety of a narrow sidewalk. eating a plum straight from the tree. floating on a raft in the calm, clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea. grandmothers in red 50s-style-dresses with matching red heels, Jackie O. sunglasses. dogs on laps, in stores, in purses, in grocery carts, in restaurants. the smell of laundry warmed by the sun. nuns driving tiny cars. endless deep talks with a boy on long walks. women having their hair done in the outdoor market between fruit and fish stands. dinner beneath a roof made of grape vines. long lines in which no one is angry or impatient. friends who know you are scared to light your stove and gift you a long handled lighter, wrapped in stapled Christmas paper.