The white space after a white night

Saturday was Notte Bianca in Florence, which coincides with the summer solstice (and Luigi’s namesday). It also was one of Samantha’s last nights here. A bit tired after work, we all meet at Lexie and Umberto’s for a great pasta dinner and then some prosecco strolling with the masses, music, and nuns with guns (very funny street performers/ merrymakers). It was a good night, but Sam and I left the group early to catch a bus and to sleep. The bus never came, but after a taxi ride I finally did sleep.

And now she is gone. Well, I’m meeting her at the train station today for a “last sip” of coffee before she heads to Rome. But her bags and her person are no longer here. So once more, here I am in this big white space. Breathing in the reflective mood while looking forward to my last month here. There is the promise of some travel and adventure, surely some celebration of my new friendships, and maybe even a bit of planning for what’s next (I must be getting old if I think I know what’s next). It will be busy, emotional, beautiful.

Unfortunately, probably a few tears will appear. But they are dumb, short-sighted tears. They are tears that do not grasp the potential of space and time. These silly tears have boundaries and are limited. Boundaries and limitations, two things I would rather live without. I’ll remind myself of that.

In the meantime, so much, so little whiteness. What will I do with it all—with all of this nothing? With all of this everything? I have a few good ideas . . .

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