Who cross the ocean

They change their skies, but not their soul, who cross the ocean.

I've read that in various translations, but that's the first way I ever heard it, and it stuck.

Today I was talking with my neighbor across the street and had a strange moment. She had given us a wonderful cake she made as a holiday gift. So today I (finally) returned her plate and took her a Pandoro as a gift. (I checked; they're good through mid-February.) I mentioned that I used to love them when I lived in Italy, and had found these here unexpectedly at the store....

"You lived in Italy?" she asked. I could tell this came as a surprise to her. Which came as a surprise to me, because with this neighbor I have this sense of a deeper level of friendship. Not because we talk very often, and we've never done more than stand or sit on her porch and talk. But the talk has gone pretty deep, and she strikes me as a deep woman.

And it was strange to realize that she didn't even know that I've lived in Italy. I've lived under different skies, but my soul is just my soul. I guess there's nothing about me that says "lived overseas." She may think, as many do, that I met Drazen here, that he came to America like so many foreigners, not realizing that had I not gone there, he might not have come here.

Anyway, she said she'd always thought she'd like to go to Italy, and she imagined herself sitting in a gondola, with a gondoliere singing over her.

And I wish so much I could make that happen for this dear woman. If I ever see a way to do it, I think I will. I just don't see it now!

So, some photos from my last visit to Venice....

It was a rainy, rainy deluge of a day, so all my pictures are dark. I chose these because of how spots of color break up the darkness. Well, the first not so much. But you can actually see the rain falling there. Then the yellow flowers, then the yellow paint on the wall. Little bits of sunshine on a rainy day.