Good Friday Morning,

I am re-emerging after two years of scarcity and privacy.

I have been told that there are folks who miss my verbal meanderings. That is meaningful.

I have recently been told that I need to write. I was told that I need to write a "NOVEL"- to expand my imagination beyond the memoir I have scripted. In other words: I need to expand my writing horizons and so I am beginning here. I thank him. I call him "Mirage Man". That vote of confidence was welcome and so, you might reap the benefits of his 'nudge'.

I am still wishing a literary agent who would love to find a publisher for my manuscript:  "Good Mourning". That was an attempt at begging for any help that might come my way.

Today is a transition day: and it is June 4th, 2018.... and so it begins.

I am sitting in my kitchen overlooking the awe inspiring vista provided by Lake Como. The sheer vertical angle of the snow capped mountains jettison from the blue, grey and shimmering waters which arrive via melting mountain tops of pure and beautiful snow. Fresh and refreshing. The birds are prolific and are continually singing and chirping away to create a beautiful symphony that only nature can provide.  Hourly, the church spires ring their bells in celebration of life’s hourly happenings. It is a music that fills the heart... no matter what religion or spirituality one claims. It is a way of keeping track of the daily passage of time, of life’s routines ... in a manner which has been part of this village for centuries. I am swept up in the routine and the sounds of Italian living and I feel filled.

I have spent the past week in quiet solitude while I have read two books, listened to Pavarotti and Friends on my stereo, and watched some saved TV shows on my devices which include: The first episode of BARRY which was recommended by Mirage Man and stars Henry Winkler and is about a paid assasin, watched a documentary on Natalie Wood’s death or was it murder? and also included the romance of “Harry and Meghan” for good solid ‘kissy face-huggy bear’ fare.

I am slowly getting into the Italian life. The village held a wonderful fest to commemorate the ALPINI soldiers who defended the lake during WWI and WWII: a parade with feathers in their caps, a marching band and a display of 90 years of soldier’s gear. There is a WWI bunker still here with the most stellar view of the lake... and is fascinating. This tranquil spot seems in contrast to imagining that this was the center of war where Mussolini was captured and killed before being transported to Milan to ‘hang’ in proof of his demise.

I have been part of this village since 1989.... 29 years. My kids grew up here in summers as this was our inviolate family time. My husband died on the lake as a result of a moped accident: quite ironic for a race-car driver! And, I have formed another family community in addition to Sarasota, where I can to flourish in speaking Italian and in stretching my mind and my expand my perspective. I offer a peep-hole into American ways and this exchange is beautiful and bountiful.

Happy Monday.

I’ll be chatting

Judy