The Enchanted April

Two years ago

In March and April, David’s health remained stable as he started a new clinical trial. Jim and I had hoped to take a Midwest road trip with him, since he couldn't fly with his low (nigh non-existent) immune system. But he couldn’t even stay away from the clinic for more than 5 days, so we flew to Chicago and spent the week with Charlotte and Matt, while, Annie flew to Boston and took a shorter road trip with David to NYC to visit R’el, Peter, Xiomara, and sweet 3-year-old Andrew.

Matt was working for Wabash College in central Indiana and planned to move there, so we looked at apartments with him, then drove to Columbus, Indiana. Jim’s first real job after his MBA was in the finance department at Cummins Engine Company. We moved there when R’el was a week old and left four years later, 7 weeks before Matt was born. In between, our Hoosier baby, Peter, was born.

It was wonderful to see our old friends, including R’els and Peter’s babysitter, Loretta. In those energetic days, I would strap Peter to my front and wheel R’el in the stroller to Loretta’s house, then walk to the Boys and Girls Club for lap swimming.

Enchanted April 2017

We’re not forgetting David, but I’m sure he’d want us to experience life and not dwell in debilitating grief. It’s hard not to feel guilty enjoying things he can’t enjoy, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense. When I die I will want my loved ones to appreciate and enjoy the life they have still to live.

Jim and I have been planning for a year to go to Italy with Jim’s brother, Jeff, and his wife, Nelly. Because Nelly’s school vacation conflicted with our Patriots’ Day plans, we flew to Florence six days before they did, then spent five days together. Then we flew home while they took a train to the Italian coast.

I felt like I’d fallen into the movie (and book) Enchanted April (based on the book, The Enchanted April, by Elizabeth von Arnim). I highly recommend both. It’s set in a medieval Italian castle, not Florence, but wisteria blooming in April connects their story and ours. Lottie and Rose dream of Italy while enduring a cold and rainy March in London; we looked forward to Italy as it snowed April 1st in New England. We all dreamed of wisteria: that flowering vine that spills over tall walls, delicate sprays of fragrant lavender blooms shaped like airy clusters of grapes.

Our time in Florence was like a honeymoon. (Maybe I’ll tell you more sometime about our real honeymoon. It was definitely shoestring.) I’ll leave the descriptions of the Duomo and Uffizzi to the myriad excellent guidebooks; everything they say is true.

Jim found our lodging on AirBNB several months ago. It was perfect: an efficiency apartment on the top floor of a building of apartments and two small hotels. Overlooking a courtyard, it was quiet and peaceful.

During the day, the front door was propped open. As we walked down the four flights of stairs (there was an elevator, but I took the stairs often to burn off some of the calories of all those gelatos and lasagnas), we became aware of a dull roar, gradually increasing until we stepped out into a bustling river of pedestrians, flowing in both directions from morning until late at night. Three blocks north was the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore (the Duomo),

 six blocks south was the Palazzo Vecchio (Old Palace), built in 1299 and still the seat of local government, with the mayor’s office and the City Council.


I’ve never really understood the love of Italy: my people are from northern Europe: Germany and England and Ireland. But Florence disarmed me. The sunshine, the food (have I mentioned gelato?), the art and architecture. At first I was disoriented, confusing north and south and uncertain of my way. But by the end I walked with confidence in the neighborhood, surrounded by over two thousand years of history.