Longing for me is a deep magnetic pull from within the core of my body. It is different to a need or a want. Those bedfellows live much closer to the surface, just beneath my skin. They are much more transitory in nature, and are more likely to be looking for a quick fix. Longing is in it, for the long haul.
Yesterday was my birthday, the third one that I have spent here in Italy, time really is whizzing by! I started the day with a fluffy cappuccino by the sea at Enzo’s bar, where I was greeted with hugs and kisses and lots of auguri’s (good wishes). It was such a fizzy start to what unfolded into a lovely day. It is still quite incredible to me how much love I receive here in my home away from home on a daily basis.
I have been putting pen to paper for a long time, I have written articles, poetry and even a book, and yet I had no recollection of ever meeting my Muse.
So I went to meet her.
Before she introduced herself to me and made herself visible, she brought me back to my mum’s kitchen where I was making chocolate biscuits. I loved cooking and baking as a child and my mum would let us experiment freely in the kitchen, it was bliss.
It has been just over a year since we arrived in Italy and as a result I have been reflecting a lot on how we got here. Believe it or not it all started with a book. Not one I read but one I wrote.
Inside each of us there is a place I believe that we long to call home. Even though I am from Ireland and very proud to be Irish there is also a part of me that never quite felt ‘at home’, like a part of me was always treading water looking to put down deeper roots, to really ground myself, to stop and to be very still.
It’s just over 3 weeks since we moved into our new house here in southern Italy and I think the reality of it all is finally starting to sink in. We are living in a beautiful house, on the edge of a medieval village that overlooks olive groves, vegetable gardens and ancient oak trees.