The busy, bright mornings
The bitter taste of pure espresso balanced perfectly with a sweet bite of croissant
The blaring sun,
Almost white in a sea of blue
Beating down on the bustling narrow streets
People babbling beneath hats and umbrellas
Their hands clutching fluttering fans, frantic to feel relief from the unrelenting summer heat.
My shoes on the cobble stones
The endless tap tap tapping of my steps as I wove circles through foreign streets
Making new discoveries, finding more beauty around each charming corner
And then I would eventually become hungry
And my exploration became food focused as I sought to indulge my hunger with whatever I most desired;
Supermarket snacks, sweet-scented bakeries, hole-in-the-wall pasta shops, hidden sandwich counters, restaurants with red checked table cloths serving up meals which had me salivating the moment the aroma found my nose.
And then the sweets
So may ice creams;
Coconut, lemon, vanilla, cherry, chocolate, pistachio
Each a brief but blissful moment of relief from the hot day
So light and cold and smooth, I am sure I will dream about it
But perhaps what I will miss most of all,
Perhaps what I hope to remember most
Is the time between noon and night
As the sun lazily drifted toward the horizon and its light became a warm beam that turned everything it touched to gold.
Those still, sticky, sleepy summer afternoons
When I would find a spot and simply drink up the moment because it felt like the whole world was made of the most decadent honey.
And I couldn’t get enough
I would watch all the couples and families who had taken time out of their lives, out of their reality, to be there.
To do all the things they knew would bring them joy.
To share their experience and their joy with the people they love.
I also watched the locals
The people who’s reality was totally wrapped up within the cobble stone streets, beneath the bluest of skies and the brightest if suns.
They worked, they cooked, they ate, they chatted, they sang, they yelled, they shopped at the markets, they greeted their friends in lovely foreign terms of endearment.
It was theirs
And I had been lucky enough to be a part of it for a while.
Eventually the sun would sink and the sky would melt from blue to orange and purple and to black.
But despite the absence of the sun, the life within the city seemed to thrive.
The air was always thick and sweet from the lingering heat of the day
The sound of conversations bubbled in the streets where restaurant tables spilled over walkways and occasionally onto the road.
People dined in the evening for hours
Something about the moon would bring everyone’s discursive spirit to the surface
Though some may say it was the wine
It was never dark
It was never threatening
You could taste the contentment emanating from every glowing window
Every night I slept soundly, often willing a new day to come faster
Excited at what it could be
What could happen,
That new day
And now my flight takes me home
Away from the magic
And if I can’t keep it
Maybe I can learn to recreate it
To recreate the way Europe has made me feel
Made me feel so much that
I will never forget my time in Europe