Reality

I’m scared.

This is not at all like I pictured my new wwoof quarters. And why is it when apprehension is involved I’m always cold? I sit in what is to be my room for the next month - zipped up in my down puffy jacket and fingerless gloves - trying to find comfort in the little that is familiar. The hole in the bed cover and the hole in the wall do not make me feel better.

Nervously I crack peanuts from Leonora’s parting gift when she took me to the Borgotaro train station this morning. God I miss her. It is evening in Valfabbrica now and outside the wind howls. The driver who picked me up from the final bus station reported snowfall last night.

The room is sparse. There is a single lamp and a roll-out folding bed which currently doubles as my desk and chair. My mind wanders to where I was this time yesterday - in front of a cozy fire, in the company of my dear friends. Boris invited Sarah, Maria and me to his home for our departing dinner. We discussed quantum physics and parallel realities. If I were a Master, I’d jump into the alternate reality of last night. I crave warmth, comfort, and love.

And that is it. Even as I write the word – love – it becomes clear to me that the weather and the accommodations have little to do with how I am feeling. Unaccompanied, by myself, alone, I sit in anxious solitude waiting to meet my new host family who are currently not here in the house.

I take a fresh look: three rolled towels are carefully placed next to my bed; dried lavender is tucked in the corner of the room; a small red petunia sits on the window sill and a single picture hangs on the wall. It is of a white-bearded man gently carrying a white-wooly sheep. How could I have missed all that before?

I’m pretty certain this reality will be just fine; I just needed a change of view.