The Disquiet of Quiet

Orecchiette and vino - tangledpasta.net

Orecchiette  with greens and vino – tangledpasta.net

 

By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi

Today marks the first weekend since April that I it has been just me with Fellini and Coco Chanel, our two indoor cats.  My daughter continues to move household items to her new apartment.  But today she is handling moving solo.

Already she has planned to have lunch at a tavern eatery [a graduate school watering hole downtown] with a sorority sister who is working in this new town.  This evening her cousin arrives to spend part of the weekend with her in her cozy new apartment.  Tonight my daughter and niece will have fun hanging wall décor, arranging furniture, and simply enjoying one another’s company, for they are more like sisters than cousins, having spent much time together over the years.

To help the cause, I arose early this morning and prepared a dinner for Anjelica and Lauren tonight.  My guess is they will dine on the orecchiette pasta made with anchovies, garlic, freshly grated Pecorino-Romano cheese, Swiss chard, salad, crusty bread, break open a bottle of vino, and kick back.  Yesterday Anjelica selected fruit tarts from Whole Foods for their dessert.

Last week was spent juggling schedules with the upholstery cleaners [the sectional sofa, side chair, and ottoman in storage in Bloomington were thick with dust], maintenance personnel [the air-conditioning and hot water were on the blink], and exterminators [a weather strip needed to be installed on the bottom of the patio door to keep the bug population at bay], it pleases me to know that her new abode is shiny clean, that the dishes and glassware have been washed and arranged in the cupboards on the newly laid liners, the floor vacuumed with her new sweeper with the Febreze attachment, and all the bedding freshly laundered.

The quiet unnerves me.  My daughter’s presence rocks my world in the best of ways.  At least she returns to town tomorrow evening, home, before she gets caught up in the whirlwind that is Law School.  At least she knows I’m always here, her anchor, her refuge, her unwavering champion.  At the very least, she deserves to begin this next phase of her academic life knowing I’ll happily provide her with Italian food.

Yet the quiet on my home front is deafening.

Ciao for now.

 

Dreaming of Dayton, Part One

A beautiful femme fatale - tangledpasta.net

A beautiful femme fatale – tangledpasta.net

By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi

This past weekend we traveled to Dayton, Ohio.  My daughter was participating in a law school safari for admitted students.  This tour de force at the law school was enhanced by the fact that we would be staying with a beloved aunt.

We set out on a sunny Friday mid-morning to journey to the Land of the Buckeyes.  This was the last weekend of Spring Break, which meant we needed to drop off my daughter’s roadster and Harvey the Fish with my brother and sister-in-law en route to Dayton.  After a quick-lunch of zuppa di minestrone, Italian bread, and a chocolate-covered shortbread cookie with an IU seal on it, we headed east.  The trip clocked in around five hours total from our domicile in northern Indiana.  Our conversation was filled with the pros and cons of the other two law schools we had visited over the past several weeks, college graduation in less than two months, and my niece’s pending June wedding.  Before one could say “graduate school”, we were pulling into Zia Agnesi’s driveway [Zia means “aunt” in Italian], in front of her well-appointed house.

Zia has always been mad about Persian cats, and she certainly has had show-stopping ones over the years.  Her two current Persians, DeLora and Molly proved no exception.   DeLora is a stunning Smokey Tortoise Persian; Molly is a blue-eyed Himalayan Persian.  I remember years ago when Zia had two blue-eyed white Angora Persians named Mitzi and Muffin.  After interacting with DeLora and Molly, I thought our own Fellini and Coco Chanel seemed to possess more pointed, fox-like noses compared with the pushed in noses of their high-falutin’ Persian cousins.

An evening full of conversation, a delicious dinner of tuna fish and noodles and mushroom casserole, and Waldorf salad washed down with vino bianco, we retired late night.  Tomorrow at the law school promised to be a busy day.

Ciao for now.

Letting Go

Sorority Formal - tangledpasta.net

Sorority Formal – tangledpasta.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi

 

Today I sit in the library of the law school my daughter is again visiting.  I am the chauffeur for the second look at this law school located less than ninety minutes from our home.  While she has several other schools to visit over Spring Break, this law school feels like coming home, not only because of the geographical proximity to our hometown, but because of the impression the students, faculty, and staff have made.

I am seated next to a series of large windows overlooking a forested area surrounding   the law school.  The beauty of the landscape is impressive.  Even the adjacent 1870’s building, recently refurbished, exudes a classical aura.  The gray squirrels scampering across the courtyard between the law buildings struck a piquant note with me, perhaps since only chunky chestnut colored squirrels raid our bird feeder at home.

This whole experience has a curious sense of déjà vu about it:  Over four years ago I accompanied Anjelica on a return visit for prospective admitted undergraduate students at the university she ultimately attended.  She was excited and nauseous at the prospect of going away to college.  In spite of her trepidation and tears, she forged ahead.  That first semester was rough emotionally.  Her cadre of high school friends had scattered; only she had opted for the gargantuan campus downstate.  But once she hit her stride, she thrived; once she pledged a sorority, went to London and Paris with several favorite professors, she never looked back.

We arrive again at a crossroads.  Four years older, more poised, more confident, ready to tackle law school, she begins to pursue her dream. Gazing at her, I remember when I decided to chase a graduate degree in linguistics. That same fire blazes in her about studying law.  Sometimes she worries maybe she will find law school is not her cup of tea.

“If it’s not, then you go with your Backup Plan.  The world won’t end,” I tell her.

I do not need to reinvent any perceived thwarted academic aspirations through her.  While we talk or text almost daily, I understand that she has begun to live her life, knowing I am her familial anchor, come what may.

I continue to learn how to gently let go as she soars into becoming the Anjelica of her own invention.

Ciao for now.