- Chapter I -
was the first Saturday of spring. That morning
Francis had decided to leave home as early to go to San Gimignano.
He had had since childhood a special fondness for this little town in the province of Siena, almost entirely enclosed in the thirteenth century walls.
addition, the Tuscan countryside had always had the power to instill in him a sense of peace and tranquility.
Peace and quiet were just what he needed in those days: it was a passing of the worst periods of his life.
feel they have more reference points, un obiettivo da perseguire.
Tutto questo perché, dopo quattordici anni di felice fidanzamento con Laura, la loro storia si era improvvisamente interrotta.
L’anno precedente avevano fissato insieme il giorno delle nozze per il 2 maggio 2009, ma non più tardi di tre settimane prima di quel sabato di primavera, lei aveva deciso di lasciarlo.
Complice il nuovo lavoro di Laura, e soprattutto nuovi colleghi, la donna che lui credeva sarebbe rimasta al suo fianco per tutta la vita, si era perdutamente innamorata di uno dei consulenti finanziari della società di leasing per cui aveva iniziato a lavorare.
Francesco, sebbene ferito profondamente nell’orgoglio e nello spirito, e forse perché l’aveva sempre amata unconditionally, he appreciated the sincerity of Laura when she had confessed to not feel anything for him, during what would be their last dinner together in that restaurant where they met and where they went frequently during their fourteen years of engagement. From
evening when Laura had confessed, in tears, having been in love with another man, he had stopped dreaming and have confidence in the future would never dared to imagine a life with another woman with who marry and have kids.
Francis felt the winter in the heart.
that morning and decided to return to San Gimignano, hoping to find the warmth he needed, so that the spring also came into him and not just in the air and into the surrounding countryside.
soon as he crosses the Porta San Giovanni, he felt an immediate sense of peace.
The same feeling he had experienced eight years ago, when he had spent inside the walls of San Gimignano a romantic weekend with Laura, staying in one of the historic village of pensions.
The fact that the walls of San Gimignano resisted even after so many centuries, the slow passing of time, did see a possibility that he could survive the end of his love story, although this was very painful and would take time to let heal the wounds of his soul.
After traveling for about one hundred meters to the line that connects your Porta San Giovanni Porta San Matteo, Francis decided to take a small side street on the right, in front of a souvenir shop, and headed back outside the walls.
What he stood before was what Francis had hoped to find after so many years, when that morning he had decided to travel.
Before him stretched the magnificent panorama of the Tuscan countryside: rolling hills of a sunny spring morning.
decided to go slowly on dirt path surrounding the perimeter of the walls, to throw yourself completely into this green and sun bath.
warned soon a feeling of comfort and tranquility, something spiritual that stroked and comforted his soul to the core.
After many days spent in the shadow of her pain, she was finally able to breathe again, to see the light, as if the end of the tunnel was near.
This sensation, however, left the place in a large and irresistible urge to cry.
could not understand whether this depended on the emotion of the beautiful scenery or very simply from the need to let go, after spending endless hours to torture what it was that wrong with Laura.
Whatever the reason, he collapsed on the grass e le lacrime cominciarono a scendere dai suoi occhi scuri, delineandogli lentamente l’ovale del viso.
«Piangi Francesco, piangi. Sfogati, non serve a nulla tenersi tutto dentro».
Queste sono le parole che Francesco pronunciò a bassa voce, come se avesse pudore per il fatto che il leggero vento di quella mattina di primavera potesse far arrivare il suo sfogo alle orecchie del mondo.
Francesco aveva sempre creduto di poter risolvere i suoi problemi, piccoli o grandi che fossero, da solo.
Aveva una famiglia che lo aveva sempre sostenuto nelle sue scelte, molti amici che avevano una grande stima nei suoi confronti.
Tuttavia, per una questione di orgoglio o semplicemente di riservatezza, tendeva sistematicamente a tenere tutto dentro di sé, gioie e dolori.
Non assillava mai nessuno con i propri problemi, né era solito condividere la sua felicità con coloro che lo circondavano.
Fino a quando Laura non aveva deciso di fare una nuova esperienza a carattere professionale, erano sempre stati molto felici insieme: c’era tra di loro un’intesa perfetta e avevano molte passioni in comune.
L’unica cosa di cui adesso Francesco si rimproverava, era proprio il fatto di non essersi mai aperto totalmente nei confronti di lei.
Seduto sull’erba, con il vento che ormai aveva asciugato quasi completamente le sue lacrime, si ritrovò a riflettere su questo punto.
“… E se questa mia eccessiva riservatezza might have contributed to a slow and gradual removal of Laura from me? ".
This is the question that appeared suddenly in the mind and most likely would never have an answer in this regard.
was certain, however, that he must go forward, her life could not stop on that siding.
Francis had always had great confidence in his mental strength.
In almost forty years of life had fallen many times but had always managed to react, shaking the dust off your clothes, and catching up on the bike louder than before.
The end of his affair with Laura was definitely the worst fall that he had assets, but in one way or another knew that Again, it would be raised, and he did.
He wiped his hands with what remained of her tears on her face and liberating turning once again look to the landscape that had so much emotion in the depths of his soul, retraced back, this time with more decisive step, the lane dirt road and went back inside the walls.
Title: Spring in Burgundy
Author: Luca Terenzoni
Publisher: The Albatros Group Wire
Info: www.lucaterenzoni.ilfilo.eu
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