Years ago I experienced divorce first-hand and it was awful. Emotionally crippling and physically debilitating, I found myself believing the pain would eat me alive as I became a shell of who I used to be. I desperately wanted my "self" back – to replace my newfound despair with my youthful sense of passion and recapture my enthusiasm for life. So when I saw the movie “Under the Tuscan Sun,” I found myself living vicariously through Frances, the movie’s protagonist.
The plot is simple: Girl is a gifted writer. Girl meets boy. Girl marries boy. Boy, narcissist, cheats on girl. Boy takes everything and moves girlfriend into girl’s home. Girl, depressed, flees to Tuscany to find herself and, instead, finds adorable villa in need of a makeover. Girl buys villa. Girl experiences life-changing transformation and love as she makes over villa – with magical Italian landscapes as a backdrop.
My God, how I envied her. At that point, I'd already been to Italy and had a vivid dream of moving there, so it was easy to imagine packing everything up and buying a one-way ticket right away. Just imagine having a chance to reinvent your life in a country that inspires wonder and speaks to your soul – a place that values the senses, culture, family and a pace that honors really living. Italy is all about passion, a beautiful place that's a juxtaposition of opposites: There's ancient wisdom and youthful innocence. It's a place that rebuilds and renews, but deeply values the past, tradition, and community. It felt like home. Add to that how wonderful it would be to leave everything behind and start over, far away from the people who've hurt you, and I'm sure you won't find it surprising that I thought it would be the perfect solution to a divorced girl's problem. Who wouldn’t want that kind of do-over?
Years later, though, I saw a huge hole in the movie’s plot because, when you really think about it, it just doesn’t apply to most real-life divorces I’ve witnessed. And, unfortunately, I know of all too many. Those plots go a bit more like this:
Girl meets boy. Girl marries boy. Girl gives up career for marriage. Girl has children. Boy damages marriage and devastates girl. Girl files for divorce. Boy gets angry. Girl loses everything. Girl pursues work and/or education to better her situation, but faces complications of being unemployed for years. Girl maintains stable home for her children. Girl incurs debt. Girl dreams of fleeing to Tuscany. Girl, instead, makes a pot of Ronzoni spaghetti with canned sauce and opens a bottle of Sangiovese after working all day and taking the kids to their extra-curricular activities.
As much as we’d love to imagine the possibility of escaping to a foreign shore when tragedy strikes, the truth is most of us have work to do right where we are before that could ever be a possibility. There are children to guide toward adulthood, a career to establish, a battle between our pain and will as we reshape our lives. There's a beauty to that battle and bravery. Hopefully, we’ll come out on the other side better, stronger, and more self-aware than when we started. Our children learn the value of a mother’s identity as a person. They see how hard work can overcome adversity and that dreams are worth pursuing. They experience their mothers’ dedication and unyielding love.
Do I wish that I could pick up and move to Italy tomorrow? Absolutely. I crave the simpler lifestyle, the slower pace and the connection to culture, community and a passionate life that can only be found in that magical place. And someday I hope that my dream will become a reality. Until then, I'll dream of the church bells that echo off of the canals in Venice each morning. I'll remember the people I met in Rome who all spoke of how family is “the most important thing.” I'll remember the foods in Tuscany that were created with love and patience, with ingredients taken right from the earth. I'll recall nature’s new growth through the cracks of majestic ruins thousands of years old, and the way Italians equate that with the cycle of life. I'll long for the way everyone there wants to hug and feed you or share a glass of wine and conversation as the sun sets and the community gathers in the local piazza. These dreams and memories motivate and inspire me. They make me remember that a world is waiting for me, hopefully to welcome me home one day. Until then I'll work and rebuild, making the most of the gifts and loved ones I have right here. The moral of the story? When life hands you lemons -- make limoncello.
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