THE MISSING CHILD

Today I feel like  Ratatouille, cooking his best dish. I have lots of thoughts in my mind and in the big pot of my heart and don't honestly know where to start...So I think is the dish still nice if I add the spices at the end or do I really need to add them first? I think it won't make much difference... WRITING is one of the most important things in my life simply because it is part of me. I don't feel completed, as a person and woman, if I don' write. It is the most natural way to  communicate, it is the way I am, the free expression of my soul. When I write I am totally free  and what I write is never coming from my mind. Somebody told me that I am good at communicating and being connected with people; I was thinking it must be because of my writing... of course there many other things that complete my life now but to reach the stage of awareness has been a kind of troubled "journey" with lots of bumps and holes and real wake up call.

How it started is really boring, I think it is the most ordinary story...

My mind recalls an image of a woman from the innermost part of my consciousness, she must be forty and I can still see the beauty of her youth. But she cannot see this beauty and she feels empty. She feels moved to tears, watching Pope John Paul II's funeral, honestly not because the Pope died (sorry but that is the truth...) but because she realizes, watching those thousands of thousands people gathering together and sharing the sorrow for the Pope's death, that she has nothing to believe in and to share. What are my beliefs, dreams and aspirations... what kind of person I am...what is my life made of...when have I lost myself, I am scared of this ... SILENCE. She cannot find an answer. The tears belong to her.The only thing she is aware of is that inside her there is only emptiness and loneliness...

I chase away this image, I surely don't like it, I know what it is and don' t want it, it is only a bad joke of my consciousness that likes to tease me. Like when you look at photos of long time ago wearing old fashioned clothes and hair cut. You quickly put these photos back thinking oh my God how ridiculous I was. So I put this image back in the last corner of my memory's drawer hoping to forget about it.

But this vivid picture does not want to keep quiet so I have to give up Okay okay you got me. You win. Let it be. You are the turning point of my life. The forty years old crises, very ordinary indeed. You pretend to be fine (happy is such a big word...), you pretend to accept the first wrinkles , the cellulitis and the nice tube around your core muscles (muscles? what muscles?), living proof of 4 beautiful children (oh it is so hard to admit that you don't feel beautiful anymore), and that your life is all about children, cooking healthy meals, driving the kids to school, to do sport, to the doctor, to their friends and...and...and... what are you looking for? I don't know... I am looking for a lost woman, who was long time ago a bright and creative child, who used to dream under the stars on a summer night in Rome, sensing the immensity and Pure Energy of Life. I miss that child...

So this is how it started. I don't expect to be very original but I ll be very honest, and in being honest I' ll surely be original, because everybody IS A STORY, a special, unique, incredible story. So I will write what I have become, or better the way I have met the missing child again  .  

Copyright 2009 Lorenza Verdini