Paradigma

In less than two months I'll be back here, and yet, for me, closing this door today is like putting a period at the end of a sentence. I'm leaving Ivrea, leaving twenty years of my life behind. Many memories, much suffering, much joy, and a lot of routine… everyone's routine.

The elevator door opens. The large trolley, the small one. "How will I get on the train? I also have to change at Savona and Ventimiglia!" The elevator descends. I struggle to get out, dragging my burdens. Here's my sister Silvia. She came from Turin to take me to Porta Nuova to catch the train: she understood that this moment is important to me and doesn't want to miss it.

"Hi Debbi. Give me the big one, I'll help you."

She loads the suitcases into the trunk, lifting them as if they were empty. She's always been strong. She looks like a man… she is a man, but it's no longer a problem. These days, I'm the strange one. We leave. It's early, there isn't much traffic.

"Did you take everything?"

The usual recommendations.

"Everything what?"

"What do I know? The train ticket…"

She's one of the few people who still insist on buying tickets at the station.

"It's on my phone… it's 2025!"

Silence. What a pity, I imagined the car journey differently, but instead… still slaves to the usual patterns.

"Sorry, come on! You're getting to me…"

I give her a smacking kiss on the cheek. She looks at me seriously then laughs.

"I'm really happy for you. You needed a change. You're still young, and besides, I like Marco."

"But you don't even know him yet?!"

"Well, it's as if I know him. From what you've told me, he seems like the right person for you. He's well off financially, but he's not an eccentric, even if he lives in Monte Carlo."

"Indeed. I'm almost afraid to say it: I'm happy."

"Say it, shout it, don't be afraid. Things can go well."

"That's exactly what I've discovered, thank God."

"How are things with his son?"

Marco has a twenty-two-year-old son. His mother, Marco's ex-wife, is a German woman from Hamburg. The son was entrusted to her and followed her to Germany. Now he studies at Heidelberg University.

"I haven't met him yet. According to what his father told me, he must be a good kid. I don't think we'll have any trouble getting along… and anyway, he's in Germany, so we won't have many opportunities to see each other."

"So we'll see each other again for Christmas… Antonio wants us all to go to his place, I've almost managed to convince Dad."

"But how can you already be thinking about Christmas? Anyway, yes, I'll come to Turin. Marco told me that he usually spends holidays with his ex and his son… we'll see, if he changes his mind in the meantime I'll try to bring him with me, so you can meet him too."

We arrive in Turin. Traffic increases. There's no parking at the station. Silvia has to drop me off nearby. She stops, gets out, unloads the trolleys, then hugs me so tightly she almost chokes me.

"At least a WhatsApp when you arrive… but if you call me, you'll make me happier."

"Silvia… thank you!"

A tear is about to escape. I'm sure it's the same for her. She gets in the car and speeds off. I remain there watching her go: the old part of me.

I have little time. I hurry to the platform. The train is a regional one, no reserved seats. I spot a quartet of empty seats. I settle in. I keep the trolleys close. I entrust my luggage to the train of life: it will carry them.

A man sitting on the opposite side of the aisle looks at me and smiles.

"Would you like me to help you put at least one of those two suitcases up there?"

"I thought I'd leave them down."

"It's better if we put the big one on the rack… then the train gets crowded…"

"Okay, thanks."

"Where are you getting off?"

"At Savona."

"Then don't worry, I'll help you take it down, I'm getting off at Savona too."

I had wanted to make the journey secluded within myself, contemplating memories, perhaps occasionally reading a few pages of "Follow Your Heart," but I suppose I'll be forced to converse with that man.

Strangely, however, he doesn't strike up a conversation. He pulls out a huge book and starts reading. The train moves, gently rocking me, and I let myself be carried away by the river of memories.