Attraversiamo

I have many more stories to share about my adventures here in beautiful Italy, but they can be written on the plane, or back at home, while my superstitious writer's instinct says this particular story must be written while my feet still rest in Rome.  So here I am in the breathtaking salon of the Hotel Plaza, settled on my favorite velvet sofa, sharing this with you at 1 a.m. my time.  My flight leaves in 8 hours, so we have plenty of time.
 If you read Eat, Pray, Love, you may remember the author's favorite phrase in Italian being "Attraversiamo".  It is now mine as well, but for completely different reasons.  Let me explain:

People watching has been huge on my agenda here.  I have especially paid attention to the pedestrians that share the narrow, cobblestone streets with me.  The locals have been easy to separate from the tourists, not only by their looks and style of dress (camera hung around neck or not, natch), but also because of the level of comfort on their face as make their way about the city.

The locals have evidently come to terms with the knowledge that they are taking their lives into their own hands every time they dip a toe off the sidewalk.  Tourists, instead, appear either unsettled, alarmed, or downright panicked at the approach of each speeding, widely veering vehicle.

I studied these expressions, and then looked further still at the tourists walking together in small groups- sometimes couples, but especially parents and children, more specifically mothers and daughters.  I saw the same thing over and over again.

 As mothers and their children journeyed together- perhaps to a café, perhaps to their hotel- they checked in on each other often with their eyes.  This happened even with the mothers who I assume were accompanied by their adult children.  It is, of course, second nature to keep tabs on your traveling companion, but that urge is likely even stronger when said companion is your own flesh and blood.

Whenever a vehicle came careening carelessly around a tight corner, whoever spotted the danger first reached out and yanked their companion out of harm's way.  I saw mothers yank children, small and large.  I saw children pull their mothers back from time to time.

In particular, I noticed a middle-aged woman walking arm in arm with her teenage daughter, deep in conversation.  Their linked arms and animated talk reminded me of Cory and I at our old stomping grounds, that paradigm of culture:  Lakeview Square Mall. 

The daughter was perhaps fourteen- all legs and high ponytail.  She appeared young enough to still look up into her mother's face, but old enough to furrow her brow when Mom said something she questioned.

Mom was well-coiffed, and practical, toting her cross body bag that likely housed Advil, Band-Aids, Neosporin, a sewing kit, and God knows what else.  She looked like the type who was prepared for anything. 

Daughter- let's call her Emily- looked well-adjusted, well-fed, and clothed well enough to be part of the in crowd at her school, or at the very least, on the outskirts.  My heart ached as I noted the dozen or so colorful bracelets she had casually laddered up both arms.

I watched them both as a taxi came ever closer to their path.  Quickly, Emily pulled her Mom back towards the sidewalk, with a gentle rebuke, "Mom!"

Mom laughed nervously, and hugged Emily close to her side, where Emily's ponytailed head fit perfectly under the shelf of her mother's chin.  Feeling a knife twist in my heart, I watched as Mom traded places with Emily to keep her safe- Emily on the inside, and Mom on the outside, ready and willing to take the hit, if it came to that. 

This was one of the occasions I became a complete bitch of a traveling partner.  Nothing satisfied me; everything annoyed me.  It was the guilt, you see.  Damn Emily's mom.  That what I should have done for Cory, but I didn't.  I failed her.

That sad, miserable thought track sped up in my brain until it sounded like a bunch of angry wasps ready to attack every soft, vulnerable part of me.  I festered over this witnessed scene for the rest of the night.  Why did I have to be so damn observant?

Sitting in the hotel salon some hours later, writing, I realized I wasn't as observant as I thought I was.  I have been judging myself based on two entirely different situations.  Emily and her mother were walking together.  Cory was alone.

Instantly, my brain piped up, "Yeah, you're damn right she was alone.  You shouldn't have let her go.  You should've -"
Shush, you.  I cut that thought off cold.

I have been looking at my role in Cory's death the same way for the past year.  Why come to Italy at all, if not to gain a different perspective?

I rewound the tape in brain, and saw all those strangers pulling their loved ones back to safety...often, not politely.  I saw myself grabbing my own mother back a half a dozen times.  I even saw Mom give me a healthy yank once or twice.  That's what people do.  They do it automatically, involuntarily, instinctively.  When you see danger approaching your loved one, you move to prevent it.  If you're a parent, you put your body in between your child and the threat.  You become a human shield, without a second thought.  It's human nature.

With one notable exception.  It is an exception I've crossed the ocean before acknowledging.  You can only protect your loved one if you see the danger approaching.

I get the irony, folks.  Every person who loves, likes, or merely tolerates me has told me this same sentiment repeatedly for a solid twelve months straight.  I publicly apologize to all of you.  It just never clicked for me.  I'm a visual person; I have to see it with my own eyes, and then reflect.

I couldn't do what Emily's mother did for Emily because I wasn't with Cory when the accident happened.  If I'd been there, my arm would've been linked loosely in hers.  I would've interrupted our hilarious banter long enough to say, "Let's cross over".  I would've done without even thinking.

If I could have protected Cory, I would have.  If I'd seen the danger coming, I'd have pulled her back.  I'd have traded places with her.  But you can't protect your child from the unknown.  The brave citizens of Rome venture into the crazy traffic because the only other alternative would be to never leave their homes.  Parents must also make peace with the reality that they can't always be there to protect their child, or that child will never find independence.  They would become shut-ins.

Parents everyday do what I did.  They let their children grow up, simply because they have no other choice.  They treasure the time they've spent guiding their babies.  They relish the moments like the one Emily and her mom shared, and the million such moments I had with Cory.

If you love your girl the way I loved mine, chances are, you remember crossing the street on a summer day to buy ice cream bars and enjoy the feel of the sun on your faces, chattering and laughing like friends- pausing just long enough to link hands- just as Cory and I did the last time we crossed West Michigan Avenue together.  You might remember saying, "Let's cross over."  Or here in Italy, "Attraversiamo."


I have that memory.  Do you?