One month ago at this time I was packing up in the house in Sorisole totally emptied but a mattress on the bedroom floor. Moki was incredibly nervous as he always is around suitcases, afraid to be left behind. Nothing could reassure him enough. Not even his pet-carrier dig out from the garage where it stayed for more than two years since the American Dog's landing in Italy. I was nervous too but I tried to be focused on my goals, get Moki and me both to Zurich by car first, next to Los Angeles by plane .
One year ago at this time I was in Tuscany with my sister and Marina was alive. Taking Marina on vacation in her condition had been quite an endeavor and I remember being equally focused on that only goal at the vigil of that trip, getting "there."
Now that I am "here" again, back in what I consider my real world but with my sister no longer belonging to my reality, I am having difficulties to be here and now.
I still wake up on many days anxious to get to my computer and open my e-mail inbox, hoping to find one of Marina's messages written from the office just before leaving work. Just before she would catch the train to go back to Bergamo. There was no skype at her office up to January 2006, the date of her last e-mail.
I am somebody notorious to erase e-mails just after receiving them unless they are of extra-ordinary importance so I have no e-mail messages from Marina left. But I vividly remember the contents and her flourishing style. She was a true story-teller. She made you see her life in details with sight and sound shows just typing a few words. She was one of the most talented writers I ever read. And I am so happy now for saving all her diaries and scrapbooks. Twnty-five or more years of the life of my sister are now sailing across the ocean to get here.
"Here". Who knows? Maybe only "then", with at least my sister's writings nearby to hang on, I will be able to be here again, "now".
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