Dream of me, I'll dream of you

Sole ambru

CHAPTER 2

I walked down the dirt road between two golden fields, illuminated by the amber sun rays of the sun, which was slowly starting to set behind the coast, dying the Mediterranean Sea a vibrant shade of orange. The breeze was gently moving my hair to the side of my forehead, as I felt the refreshing coolness of the breeze against the skin beneath the slightly shorter-cut hair on the sides of my head.

I looked at the ground ask I walked, thinking about the only thing I can ever think about. Him. It's been six years, six years since this sweet-looking 12-year-old Italian boy had stood there in the doorframe to our classroom as the teacher introduced him to the class. Six years since I first fell in love. Six years, in which I secretly felt for the boy that had joined my friends and me that day during lunchtime and sat with us ever since. Two months, since he told me he felt the same way about me, as I felt about him. Now a handsome, 18-year-old man.

A dream of a man, really. A face, as sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Michelangelo or any other of the great Renaissance sculptors. A jawline, so defined and covered in the most attractive black stubble. Full, rosy lips, with a bow so defined, it makes cupid jealous. A perfect, Roman nose and amber, almost green, eyes which were surrounded by the most beautiful long, black lashes, they could paint any painting more beautiful than a brush. And those full eyebrows. The high cheekbones and then his thick, wavy hair, which hung halfway down his pretty forehead, curling slightly in the process.

And then there was his calm nature. He was unbelievably soothing, just like his very voice was too. He was spontaneous, never failing to come up with sudden plans which would brighten up even the worst of days.

I could not help but smile, as I thought about him, not even realizing that I had already arrived at the gates to my minnana's house. As I opened the gate to walk up the path which lead to the front door, decorated by cypress tress on each side of the path, right up to the house itself. From a distance, I could see my minnana looking out the window, arms crossed as she supported her upper body on the windowsill, the green, wooden shutters wide open, forming a contrast against the white color of the house walls. She loved looking at the fields surrounding our house. They used to be ours, once, before my grandmother sold them to a neighbor, shortly after my grandfather's death, when I was around eight. The vast array of poppies to the left, lavender to the right and golden wheat in front and behind the house, gave it a unique view, that easily was one of the most picturesque in all of Corsica. From the upper floor rooms you could see past the fields and see the water, as it rapidly rolled in waves towards the dark brown cliffs, only to break upon crashing against them, resulting in beautiful white drops of water, which sprung through the air and fell back into the sea.

I loved my grandmother's house. My parents and I lived in the nearest town, not far from Elia's house, which was only six streets over from ours. I remember my parents trying on several occasions to persuade my minnana to finally give up her house, which stood isolated amidst the beautiful fields, with the nearest neighbor around two kilometers down the dirt road, which connected the houses to each other and the nearest towns. She would not have any of it. Not even the promise of moving in and living with us could persuade her to give up the house in which she raised seven children with the man she calls the "love of my life". And I get it. I do. The smell of the sea and the lavender when the windows are shutters are opened are so calming, I would not want to give them up either.

As I continued walking towards the front door, minnana turned her head and finally spotted me.

"Madonna, infine! Induva eri?" She shouted from the kitchen window, curious as to my whereabouts.

"À u mare, minnana!" I replied, indicating that I had been by the sea by myself.

"Entri! Chì aghju dighjà cuminciatu à cucinà!"