A sweet symphony of sounds greeted me when my bus delivered me to Castellammare del Golfo, Sicily. I looked down at my ancestral village—a locale lost in time— Its towering backdrop undimmed by the countless procession of sunrises and sunsets. Minutes later, my coughing, scarred and graffiti stained bus stopped in a church courtyard.
I strolled over to a flaky seasoned bench, sat and rested my legs, then stared at my father’s baptismal church. Hands blanketing my face, I buried my head in prayer, I sprawled out on the flaky bench and saw a rude sign boldly announcing “closed” faced me.
Exasperated, I sighed, realizing that renovations banned a visit to the interior of the church. A nap later, I began hobbling toward the town’s picturesque beach. The intoxicating aromatic sea teaming with Castellamare’s photo postcard look lured me..
The spell of that shoreline forced me to demand my octogenarian knees to navigate that Sicilian sand. The awakening sun winked in the distant sky, delivering a twinkle to my eyes. I sensed the town’s warm embrace and reflected on Castellamare’s storied history. Taking a deep breath, I imagined my pre-teen father frolicking in those lucid waters.
My careworn toes touched the stubborn stones as I strolled on the dock where my father once dove for liras. Laughter and background music echoed all around again. My heart somersaulted.
Castellammare’s warm hug erased any trace of melancholy in my soul. This moment was more inviting than my recent half-century dance in my past in my world of chalk and blackboards.
I froze to admire the multi-colored tiny enchanting boats. Dreamland captivated me. In my remembered my father reiterating a familiar Sicilian quote from my fuzzy faced days, ‘Figu mio, famiglia is where your heart lives.”
I opened my sticky eyes, then rubbing them aggressively I stood unwrapping my clicking legs and raised my arms toward the heavens accepting my father’s advice. The time to rejoice my magical ancestral roots arrived if only on a part-time basis.
I strolled toward my albergo to pack for a flight home temporarily leaving this magnificent paradiso. I smiled while pop’s proverb danced around in my mind again.
Yes Papa ! You were right. Family is truly where my heart lives.
