27 May Why the rain?
Though many may disagree, I feel that the constant rain fall during our last week in Italy has enhanced my love for the country. I have found that experiencing a city under dark clouds is just as important as experience paired with sunscreen and tank tops. One of my favorite parts of this trip was the stormy walk up to the castle in Poppi. Though it was incredibly strenuous and shocking on the group, it was the moments I had to myself that I appreciated the most. Rain poured down onto my dress, making it stick to my skin, and I could feel eye makeup running down my cheeks. Though there was mud on my calves and sweat( easily mistaken as raindrops) dripping from my face, I felt clean. The mountain air was fresh and crisp, and I purposefully fell behind the herd to take in the views. Walking backwards, looking back over the city I had just been introduced to, peace and holiness fell over my soul and I will always remember the Calm. The Calm is my favorite part of rain, and I’m appreciative to have been able to feel that during my time in Italy. It is rare for me.
On the last day in my beloved Florence, I was feeling sadly inspired by our upcoming departure, so I went to Scudieri to journal and enjoy one last cappuccino. The piazza was virtually empty, and only the tourists and locals who braved the downpour remained to witness a soaking Duomo. I wrote a piece about my love for rain while I was there, and though it’s rough I will end with that:
Why the rain? It is the tears of souls who didn’t have the chance to experience Florence, the city of love and art and beauty. Did one really live if they haven’t seen this buzzing city of history and passion.
So Heaven is the ultimate goal, but on earth, Florence is the closest you can get to perfection.
The tears, the jealous tears fall on the unappreciative and spoiled, unaware of their privlage. The tears stain cheeks with black mascara and ruin shoes that run for cover. The souls weep for all they missed: the art on every corner, the love in every “ciao!,” the marble that their fingertips never had the chance to graze.
Do the souls know that I love their sadness? Though I am sorry, it is true. The rain makes the Duomo marble shine and the pavement reflect lovers constant kisses. The rain enhances Florence for those who love it, for those who don’t skipper indoors, so I escape outside to drink in the tears, and thank the lost and jealous souls for their rain.
