I like getting up and out little before sunrise. Apparently, so did the dead guy.
It was a beautiful start to a wonderful day in Orvieto. The dead body on the Corso Cavour stopped the sun from rising and robbed the birds of their songs.
Seems an old guy (not me) was having chest pains and labored breathing. He was walking to the medical clinic the night before to get help. La Polizia found him the next morning where he took his final breath as he sat with his back against an ancient wall.
The morning sun was working its way around the clocktower and its pointed beam illuminated a gold sheet with a lump under it. It’s what I saw first. Then I noticed two Polizia Stradale guarding the covered remains of the man.
I should have made a photograph. I am, after all, a photojournalist… Or I was… once. Out of respect, I decided to walk past and ponder my future in Orvieto.
My introspection convicted me that I needed to make a call to 1-800-Boo-Freakin’ Who. I was feeling so sorry for myself because the house I bought in April last year, Casa Therese, not fifty meters from our apartment, that started out as a four-month remodel project was now entering its fifteenth month. I’m pretty sure the dead guy would have liked another fifteen months.
That morning’s encounter with life’s final reality stopped me cold. I am really trying to be thankful in all things. Like writing this silly post.
And here was another big surprise Orvieto bestowed upon me… I wrote a love letter (actually, an email) to our contractor, who as I mention above is now more than one year past the promised completion date of Casa Therese, addressing him as “Lil’ Bro.” We all have a mound of stuff we are dealing with. Lil’ Bro is no exception.
I still have a house that is not completed (Casa Incompleto?) but my life is richer because I have a Lil’ Bro in Orvieto.
I saw this stairway and thought of the man who died. I hope it is like the stairway he climbed toward the light of his eternal life in heaven.
