Friday, September 17

what the nun wrote

{on a train with tim, italy, 2006}

Four years ago, when Tim and I were traveling on a train inbound to Rome, a quiet, middle-aged nun sat across the aisle from me and I saw her write, in a little book stapled together of paper scraps,

act ~ be aware ~ eat ~ drink ~ rest ~ think
take class in ---
open the door // open the wind
class in ---
breathe ~ talk ~ drink ~ look

She then turned to the conductor and spoke in the kind of guttural, idiomatic Italian that is perfectly known from the inside out and as worn in as an old leather glove.

Since then, I have often thought about her, and wondered what her story was. Sometimes the littlest moments can form the deepest impressions.