She was a nice 17 years old girl.
She didn’t call herself a woman, not yet. She thought that girl was cuter than woman. And she had a lot to achieve before becoming a woman, a true strong woman.
It was a dark and little fresh night. She liked to wander outside by that type of weather. Enjoying the clear sky, watching the stars, watching people. One of her favourite games was to look at people chatting and to imagine what they were saying:
-- Man that girl was gorgeous but her man was near.
-- If you were that interested what didn’t you try to fight?
-- Are you kidding? She was worth getting my ass kicked but her man was huge.
-- You are just a coward. Aww look at the girl in front of us, she is cute, isn’t she?
-- She is under age. But she sure is cute. And she is starring at us.
She turned her head smiling and leave them, satisfied with her fantasies. She leaved in a big city, but what she liked the most was little nice places. It wasn’t the kind of places her classmate would have liked, or gotten in by the way but she always found a way to get through. The trick was to dress casually but to look really confident.
And confident she was.
That day she ended up on a terrace of bar. The view wasn’t amazing, actually it was one the crappiest she had ever seen for a bar, though she had seen a lot. But she liked that place, specially her spot. From where she was sitting she was able to see all the tables and the bar. Yes a perfect spot to play her what-are-people-talking-about-game.
She liked the sky-like blue colour of the walls, the shining little stars like lights on them, the old fashioned bar, the people who used to come here, the music they played and the food. She used to play while eating some Italian food. She liked to play the Italian girl too, because she looked like one, tall, hazel eye and dark hair, a bella ragazza.
She was called Sevy,
but she said she haven’t found her true name yet, the name which would define her as she was, or supposed to be. Sevy wasn’t that bad, but it was a child name, an innocent chrysalis waiting to become a wonderful butterfly.
A couple sat down and she started her game again:
-- What if I ask you to marry me ?
-- Are you asking me now? Like that?
-- said “What if”.
-- Then just ask and you will have your answer.
-- Please.
-- Can’t you tell by looking in my eyes?
Starring at each other in silence.
-- What if I say that I am leaving?
-- Are you ?
-- Yes. What about you?
-- So you are leaving.
-- Are you going to stay here and leave without me or come and share my life
there?
-- Can’t you tell just by looking in my eyes?
They didn’t say anything after that, they were drinking their white wine and starring at
each other.
What would Sevy have done in that case?
She didn’t know because she wasn’t romantic at all, part of it because she have never felt in love.
Or maybe she was just romantic in another way and that was why she liked to play that much. Life was a
game for her in fact. She was always smiling, and when bad things happened, she used to cry all the tears she could and then smile at the end because she knew they were part of the game.
She knew the rules and she accepted them, maybe too much.
A few years ago she changed school in order to take Italian class.
Her parents, her friends didn’t understand her interest. She didn’t either but she moved, transferred her life from one point of the town to another.
She was a normal student but her Italian teacher used to say that she was gifted. She was able to be as proud and passionate as the Italians were. She sought in her family if there was any Italian blood but there wasn’t, so it was a strange gift. She felt in love with that language, that country, that culture.
She then decided to go there in exchange, after her first year of college. Everyone asked her why she liked it so much that she wanted to leave. She didn’t know what to explain, she couldn’t even explain to herself.
Why did she want that much to leave? She knew that she was not unhappy here, yet she couldn’t say that happy she was, at least not here. Was it what she was, a scattering from Italy maybe or from nowhere, everywhere a stranger, nowhere home. She was homesick, what was weird was that she didn’t know where her home was.
All of that happened a year and half ago.
Today she is at the airport with her family and her friends. She is leaving for a semester in Italy. They know that she will
probably not come back after those six months, yet they let her leave.
They know that the question isn’t whether or not she loves them but whether they love her enough to let her do what’s right for her.
Ciao
she says. Most of people use it to say goodbye without knowing it also means “hello”. And that was what she meant.
Goodbye my beloved friends and family, goodbye to my place, my country, my home, hello to the world I belong to, I am coming.
Yes, Ciao!!
Images from unsplash
soundtrack:
sospesa
Nuvole Bbianche