There is an old song from the Lunapop (a very trashy and somewhat outdated, Italian pop group) that is entirely dedicated to a vespa and the good times spent driving around with one. Well, I own a vespa, it was red in its golden years, and now it’s blue…it’s a bit old and does not work at its best, but it’s a beauty and yes, it’s all true when one says that driving behind a two-wheeled vespa “makes all of your problems disappeared,” it’s just the way it feels when the wind brushes your hair *(under the helmet) and you feel like you own the streets of Rome, even if your odometer won’t go above 50km/hour and every other new comer scooter on the market passes you showing off their new remodeled engine making so much more noise than your vespa.
Why, in the love of God, am I writing an entire blog post on vespas? No idea how to spent a Monday night at home other than fantasizing over this, I guess. Or maybe, I am just about to go turn our little vespa on and take a nice, long, night ride all over Rome….Not sure yet, but I shot this photo yesterday at the Bolsena Lake about 2 hours outside of Rome and I have been thinking about the summer in which I was riding my (then red, now light blue) vespa all over the city like a free bird and I guess nostalgia kicked in to remind me once more how much I love this city of mine, but how much more all I have left here *(vespa aside) it’s part of a past I do not belong to anymore…most of my old friends are gone, I am not in high school anymore and my favorite croissant place does not exist anymore, yet the vespa is still parked in the same garage below my house.
How can one learn to be detached from all this if every time I come home for the holidays I feel as I were 19 again as I slip into the old bed I left 11 years ago and everything else looks the same around me?
My new year’s resolution is to learn how to love what’s about to come realizing I have loved what has come before very much, but time has come to let it go. This unknown future of mine, which I fear daily because so obscured and un-readable is the reason to live for, I can’t continue living in the past anchored to memories of friends departed, places no longer present and tastes and smells never similar to the ones of today. The one of an immigrant is a very, very, very unreal and platonic past. A dazed and confused past, one that is impossible to described because it makes us feel melancholic and happy together, it gives us a sense on non-belonging, but also a sense of powerful independence. Nobody, but an immigrant can fully understand the meaning of a past lived in two countries, with two separate identities and way of life.
But this year, the 11 year of my American adventure, I want to move on to live in a dimension of the present enjoying every bit of every hour of every day so that my future can be better off that any past I have ever had. I do not care to live in a memory lane cage any longer.
ps: I promise never again to write about life, vespas and the meaning of past, present and future on a full-moon night because the influence of such element may have severely skewed my perspective over it all and may have made this entire blog a complete fluke. But, yet again… this is the whole fun it!