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The days are slow and languid, yet progressing quickly. Parents and siblings have since gone from visiting the place we called home for the last 4 months. The holiday aftereffects left the nearly empty campus in a melancholic mood. The weather unusually began to contrast greatly from the typical cold and overcast days that we had begrudgingly become accustomed to in the previous months. Almost as if spring had introduced itself in the bleak and wintry month of January. As if the sunny days were a promise of the bright ones to come in the new year that had commenced.
Most mornings were spent catching up on the sleep we could somehow never get enough of- no matter how much we slept. The day would not begin until a coffee run was made. In our efforts to assimilate to Italian culture, we had unknowingly acquired an addiction. Some days, we would venture far out into town for our fix. On other days, we would suffice with the quick cappuccino at the bar just below the hill, where we considered ourselves regulars. By this point in time, we had convinced ourselves that our ghastly habit of ordering cappuccinos past 11 am had distinguished us as good customers. That along with the incessant need to always grab a cornetto to accompany it.
Once we had our routine treat, we would brainstorm where the remaining hours of daylight would take us. More often than not, the rays pointed us in the direction of the spacious field behind the school building. Here, the sun would shine without anything inhibiting it from making direct contact with our vitamin-lacking-faces. It was a perfect combination of a bright sun and chilling breeze. Like a warm knitted blanket in a precisely chilled room. Our legs would take us up the hill, stairs, and into the dorm where we would find the outside quilts. Grabbing no less than two, various books, notebooks, and art supplies, we would make our place at our special spot past the soccer field.
After months of insufferable lengths of time spent indoors, our outside world shortly became our haven in a matter of a couple of days. Our small group of 4 gatherers quickly became a clan of more than 8 sun-baskers. We jokingly, yet proudly, called ourselves “Tuscan Nymphs” for a short-lived time. The worn-out blankets felt like a retreat from the rest of world. On these quilts, newfound passions had been birthed. Each leisurely passing day was filled with the warm sun promise, and seemed infinite. So infinite enough that a boundless number of books could be read. Infinite enough that journaling our every waking thought was a meager task. Infinite enough to make abundant art to cover a wall. Infinite enough that any task once deemed not important enough to take priority, suddenly had enough room to take first place of things to be done.
As more students began to arrive from their holiday adventures, along with them came the arrival of classes. Sooner than later, the days of sun became scarce once again and so did the time we could allocate to our passions. Eventually, the priorities became first place once again, and the quilts were stored away to be used only on the next finite infinite day.
by: Emily Carvajal, Southern Adventist University
