at the station

Another railway station farewell. Each one is different, and they don't get any easier. I wave and smile brightly, but really I am blinking back the tears. Sometimes my life has too many farewells in it.

This morning my Australian guests headed home. Their visit gave me much cause to reflect. I hadn't seen my school friend for 43 years. Am I really that old? But it was not only our school days or the gap in between those years that I have been thinking about over the last two weeks.

The fact that both my guests see themselves as Australian was a surprise. Fair enough, the "ragazza", the daughter, moved to Australia as a little one, and her accent gives no trace of her Kiwi origins. But my school friend, apart from the very occasional "i" sound, still sounds like the girl I used to know. When does one become a "new native"? If I live here for the rest of my days I will still be a Kiwi living in Italy. I know that I have adopted some Italian habits, that Italy has changed me a little, but I also know that I will always be a foreigner here.

Do we need a sense of belonging? It reminded me of a conversation with other NZ born Australians, working in Rome but already wondering where they will fit in when they retire. How long could they stay away before it became too hard to "go home"? New friends discussed similar issues with me recently. Their exciting international life prior to impending NZ retirement in a quiet South Island town might just be spoiling them too much, and home might never be quite enough again.

Occasionally I wonder which family will kindly tuck me into their corner in the local cemetery. Will I be here for the rest of my life? I guess this visit has unsettled me more than I expected. Looking back is not good for me. I prefer to look forward. But when my "forward" is only a few months at a time I have to admit that I have no idea what the rest of my life will look like. Daily living takes all my energy.

My friend heads home, very sure of how her life is going to be. I envy her that confidence. Her life has been full and exciting, going interesting places, having a successful career, experiencing things I will never know. But would I really trade places with her?

Today I will gather up my thoughts, tidy up and organise my space again, and get back to my own life. Or rather, I will when this heat wave finally ends and I have the energy to pick up life again. I like my life with its challenges and the little steps I make. I accept that there are no certainties for me. But just occasionally it would be nice to look ahead and know that all will be well.

I guess that is what faith is about. I do know that all will be well. I do know that I am where I want to be right now. How does the song go? Doris Day sang it so well. "... the future's not ours to see, Que sera, sera".

So enough with looking back, or looking forward and discussing stairs and knees and how I am going to cope or where I might live in my old age. Today is all we have. This morning I have already organised the firewood for the winter and the olive picking and pruning for October. I've put a few things back in their places, and am ready to wash the floors. The first load of linen is ready to go out into the sun, and the day is full of promise.

On days like today I enjoy doing housework, nesting again, making my own little space in the world. Maybe we all need to feel that we belong, and being right here in this ancient little village on a rocky hillside does it for me.

Today I am grateful for metre-thick stone walls.