I misplaced him many days ago
I found him often on face book
Never the same though it felt real
- He was filled with magic, puns, cigarettes,
- cocktails, cameras, cappuccino, olives, food
- wine, tales of the advertising business, jokes
- his base in his Italian roots and family
- In short he was living a “post card life”
He made bold choices. Filled his life with song and story. He seemed to thrive on being messy.
His picture was tacked on my refrigerator
From my daughter Tai’s year in Italy. Till long after. Couldn’t take it down.
It was so lush and beautiful. All oranges and blue and timeless. Neither one aspiring to anything else. Both enjoying the company and the task at hand. In the Puglia of the Villa Cappelli.
I loved it and was jealous .
We enjoyed each other’s company, too. (He and I), both with daughters. His life more extravagant than mine. Seeing his made me sometimes wonder about mine.
I always thought I’d have a chance to hang with him again. Visit him in his Villa, drink his wine. His label: “N P” for “No Problem.”
I am very fond of his wine.
I’d always fancied another time for farewell
I know his dream Villa lives on
I wish peace for his family
And plentiful olives.
There’s a exquisitely sad song Johnny Cash sang toward the end of his life
called “I hurt myself today.” Maybe you know it.
Reminds me of the way I feel when I say “I lost a friend today.”