4 Seasons of my Love

A gateway to the past

-Spring, 2050.-

The sun rises as every morning in the beautiful Sicilian coast, the waves vengefully punishing the cliffs, as if avenging some old, centennial conflict between land and sea. It is mid spring and the scent of freshly blossomed flowers can be smelled in the air. Somewhere near the biggest cliff, lies a cottage, small but classy. Exuberant colors of pastel yellows, blues and pinks make up the picturesque house. 

Sitting on a rocking chair, an old lady, wrinkled as a raisin, her hair white as snow, and her eyes, the most beautiful green eyes, filled with memories and visions of a life that she once lived. On her fragile fingers, a diamond ring shines, reminding her of the love of her life, Dylan Bianchi. Her children never knew who had given her that ring, the one thing she treasured and guarded, even when she couldn't see anymore, and on her neck, a heart-shaped golden necklace with her name inscribed on it.

She had been clinically blind for almost 10 years now, but she was far from real blindness. Everyday, she comforted herself and took refuge in her mind, in the memories of her life, memories such as the death of her father, the evenings she spent painting with her mother at the house in Locarno, a small town located in southern Switzerland, but the memories she went back to the most, were those of the love of her life, the protagonist of her teenage love story. 

Although her time with him had been short, she had shared a lifetime worth of memories with him. She remembered the mornings they spent bathing in the Lago di Lugano, and the summer nights camping atop Monte Generoso.

As her blindness progressed, and she lost sight, she refuged herself in her memories, until one day, she couldn't see anymore, and her memories were all she had left. She knew the life she remembered was better than the life that she had now, so she chose to succumb to her past.

The old lady stands up, exhausted, as if she's carrying the pain, remorse and guilt of a thousand past lives. She stares into the horizon, even though she cannot see what lies in front of her, she can hear the waves, she feels the ocean breeze smashing against her delicate face, the sun's rays, intense and golden, like the ones she used to like when she was younger. 

She walks towards the garden inhaling the pollen of the tulips she had planted not long ago. She lies down on the grass, feeling the heat of the sun on her skin, she does this every day, no matter the weather, no matter what is going on in the outside world, for her, this is a ritual, her life. She relaxes her body, and in an instant, as fast as the waves crash against the cliffs, she remembers, smiling as she is engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions and images of her life.

-Summer, 1983-

-"Mia!!!", "Miaaaa!!", "Wake up! You're gonna be late". -Said my dad screaming from downstairs.

-"Remember today is the 4th of July barbecue at Uncle Pete's house, you know his chef makes the best BBQ ribs in all California, you don't wanna miss 'em". -He said in the "I know what's best for you" tone he always speaks to me with.

-"I know, I know dad, but honestly, is it a sin for a girl to want to sleep a liii..ttle bit longer?". - I said.

-" Of course not honey, but that "liiii..ttle bit longer" was like 2 hours ago". - He said in a mocking tone while making a cheap and not so convincing impersonation of me.

-"Alright, alright, I'll get up. But can we at least stop at the Pantry Cafe on the way there?". -I said trying to convince him, even though I knew it was not likely.

 I'll explain, my dad is one of those people who saves even the ketchup they give out at restaurants just because they're "a steal!" and brings them home so we don't have to buy our own. He's also the type of guy who likes doing everything himself, calling a plumber? What's that? My dad would always take care of that stuff, even if it meant getting dirty toilet water sprayed all over his face because he touched the wrong pipeline.