Siciliana In Training

Early October, 2011 when he smashed my computer with so much force that its splintering shards tore the screen on the window- I almost left my body- which would have been for the second time in my life. Instead, any remnant of  loyalty, desire, wish, resentment, insistence or fear evaporated.  By November 10th I was able to move back to a safe and empty house. My brother, loyal and honest moved in and that summer the corn grew tall and Hector the neighborhood stray joined us.  

This was in a small town in Southern NJ known for it's pine trees and blueberries.  

I am in the States, but this blog is still on Sicilian time.  So it reads 1/17/17. Six more months till the 6th anniversary of the worst day of my life.   Or the best.  Learning of the impossibilities that make up a life ruled by madness can be helpful. 

more about this, perhaps, but definitely another time. 

I remember feeling disloyal to write after January 2011.  Each discovery, each test of reality pushing us further into the absurd.  Nothing would have been kind. And worse, perhaps, nothing would have made it easy to stay.  Until October, I needed  for it to be tolerable, just until I took the last part of my boards.

Tonight I  read here, which I had not done in as long a time since I last wrote: like an anthropologist,  without feeling.  Except when I read about crisp white paper bags, ciabatta rolls  whose green and black olives picked from the trees just down the road, filled the emptiness of the dough; flying into the Palermo airport- these entries - for these entries the emotion came on strong. 






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