In 1985 when I lived in Milwaukee, I was initiated to the Sicilian's high regard for the patient woman of valour who waits for her man as he goes to war, leaves her behind, expects her to be faithful while he battles and surrenders to temptation.
I was in the living room of a wonderful man from Sant' Elia as he praised Penelope.
Then and there, I knew in my heart I was no Penelope and I was kind of ticked off that she had to wait and weave everyday only to unravel her work every night. Odysseus was pretty much let off the hook for his indiscretions with the Sirens.
Yet I am Penelope in a manner of speaking the metaphor holds. It's been two years since I married the Sicilian and for all this time we have mostly been living on two different continents. 4 years of starting out with one destination in mind, prepared for it, only to have it unravel as I collected the thread to weave for another destination, another "project" .
In our attempt to come home, we have tried to be in Sicily and sometimes tried to be in Jersey. But mostly we tried to be a Sicilian in the States or an American in Sicily.
I have been a kind of orphan these past few years, and I don't like it. I have been without a home. I have a place to live gratefully, but I was nearly always alone . It has felt like a place to keep my belongings, but my heart has been on the Island that housed my Odysseus.
The metaphor holds. As we tried to live here or there, I would often be called upon to be a do it yourself immigration lawyer, telecommuter or mini-mogul, only to put aside the fabric that I had woven to clothe us, set it aside as it no longer fit our plans. I didn't want to write about plans that changed all the time, it was frustrating, it was embarassing.
Yet I realize this was a mistake to not write. It has been difficult. I have lived Penelope's life. My attitude has been that her weaving and unweaving was a waste . Yet this is what I have done, and by not writing I have dismissed these two years of very hard work and difficulty. I am living the life of Penelope and have treated myself as I treated her.
It's my birthday today and I am alone. The Sicilian is on his Island.
As a gift to myself I write. At least if I unravel again, I will have lived it I will have written it.
2 comments:
this entry is gorgeous... i will definitely follow your blog now!
btw im ricciolina from expats in italy..
ciao!
thank you so much for your kind words. The unravelling continues and today, in the Rain in our Southern New Jersey part of our journey, I weave just a little bit.
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