Several weeks ago my mom called to inform me I had received a package in the mail with international postage. I wasn’t expecting anything in the mail, and I truly had no idea what the package could contain.
It’s not every day you receive unexpected international mail. My immediate thoughts: Had I drunkenly bid on an unnecessary eBay luxury item? No, that can’t be it. Do I have an international pal I had somehow forgotten… one who would surprise me with gifts? No, sadly. Did I unwittingly sign up for something? Maybe.
Without seeing the package, it was difficult to guess the who’s, what’s, and how’s. I asked my mom for a few context clues. “Can you read the return postage information for me?” I asked. “It looks like it came from Italy,” she said, “and it feels like a book…”
One dramatic inhalation preceded, “What, no… it can’t be that. There’s no way. That is not possible…” I asked her to open the mystery package.
Inside there was a postcard with a note:
And a treasure I was certain I would never see again…
Along with the postcard was a journal. A journal I had lost on March 18, 2011 while on a day trip to Poggio A Caiano e Carmignano, Italy. Four and half years ago. WHAT. How did this journal find its way back to me? Where had it been hiding all this time? And, oh dear god, what did Daniel read……?
I remember the moment I learned my little blue journal was gone forever. I was sitting on the bus as we were heading back to Sesto and decided it was an appropriate time to document my day. I began digging through my bag, checking the usual pockets with no success, and with a gasp of grief I realized I had left it somewhere at the Capezzana winery.
It was gone forever, or so I thought. I mourned the loss briefly, purchased a replacement, and moved onto making new memories. I hadn’t thought of that blue journal in over four years.
And, now I have it in front of me. So, here we are on this rainy Wednesday… I am flipping through the pages for the first time in years. Inside there are to-do lists with boxes unchecked, lines upon lines of cringeworthy prose, dramatic declarations, hilarious anecdotes, past aspirations… you know, pretty standard stuff.
The magic surrounding this journal and its journey is anything but standard.
While I can’t be sure of what Daniel read, where the journal had been hiding at the winery, or how long Capezzana had held onto it before shipping it back home, I am certain I need to send them a thank you card and print.
Part II, including journal excerpts to follow.