What is it that keeps a house grounded, tethered and secure? Its foundations. Your friendship – the non-sexual attachment, affinity and affection you have for each other – forms the foundations of your relationship house.
If we consider friendship as the foundations, then marriage is the process that cares for and tends to the house as it weathers. As the years progress, your house may require attention, maintenance or even remodelling. As your relationship faces storms and the ravages of life’s seasons, you may even need to strip it back to the framework.
Do not lament or fear this process. This is when we eliminate the unnecessary fibres and coating and our truest selves are revealed; it is when the greatest redevelopments of the house can take place.
due
Sarah:Arrived in Florence. In car on the way to the hotel now.
Dad:Great to hear, love. Chat in the next few days. Just you worry about settling in.
Mum:What’s he like? As handsome as on the computer Zoomy thing?
Sarah:He’s very handsome. And lovely. Spectacular eyes.
Dad:Ok. Take it into your own private chat, please, ladies.
Sarah:Got to go. Chat soon. Love you.
Mum:Miss you already, Bumblebee.
‘This is as far as we go by car,’ Maurizio, their driver, said. ‘From here, we walk.Zona a traffico limitato!’
He pulled over on the shoulder of the narrow alleyway. Nestled between a Smart car and three bicycles, he had manoeuvred the midsized town car with millimetre precision.
Sarah craned her neck skyward, trying to catch a glimpse of the cobalt blue above. The tall palazzo to her right and awkward angle of the parked car made it near impossible.
The driver coaxed his rotund belly from the vehicle, straightening his suit tails once standing. ‘It is just two streets from here.Due,’ he said, opening the door for Sarah. Feeling stiff-legged, it took her a moment to feel steady on her feet.
‘No, no,Signor D’Adamo!’ Maurizio insisted, verbally shooing Matthew’s hands from the suit bag which lay across his lap. ‘I will bring it to the hotel soon.Ci penso io.’
Not wanting to offend, Matthew left his luggage and stepped from the vehicle. He stretched his arms up over his head, rolled his shoulders and looked at Sarah over the top of the car. ‘I feel like I’ve aged thirty years.’
‘Everything hurts,’ Sarah agreed, laughing.
‘Signori, prego.’ Maurizio gestured for them to join him, and together they set off in the direction of the hotel.
Biting her lower lip, Sarah raised her eyebrows at Matthew. ‘Does this feel real yet?’
Suddenly, a red Vespa turned a corner and sped towards them. A few pedestrians jumped from its path, seeking refuge in a leather glove store on the left-hand side of the laneway. Failing to give way at a small junction, the Vespa almost collided with a weary-looking yellow Piaggio Ape. Both drivers stopped short just in time, allowing for a moment’s pause to exchange verbal abuse, before continuing in opposite directions.
Sarah giggled to herself, delighted and amused in equal measure.
‘Nowit feels real,’ Matthew laughed, shaking his head.
They followed Maurizio down the laneway, which grew narrower with every stride.
‘Now I get why we had to leave the car where we did,’ Sarah noted.
‘Don’t speak so soon,’ Matthew said, pointing. Ahead, where the laneway opened up, bright lights awaited them and as they approached, the sounds of music and chatter grew louder.
Maurizio stopped and waited for them. He took Sarah’s hands with his right hand and gently held Matthew’s arm with his left. ‘Signori,benvenuti a Firenze,’ he said, beaming as they stepped out of the shadowy lane into the warmth.
Welcoming golden rays enveloped them. ‘Oh my God,’ Sarah blurted. ‘It’s . . . it’s beautiful.’ Shielding her eyes from the burst of light, she stepped forward and spun around on the spot, trying to take it all in. Sarah had seen so many pictures of the iconic piazza, but nothing could have prepared her for the transporting spirit of the square in the flesh. The Fontana del Nettuno caught her attention first, but it was the sight of the replica of Michelangelo’s ‘David’ that drew a gasp of awe from her lips.
‘This is the heart of Firenze –il cuore. Piazza della Signoria. Almost seven-hundred years old.’ Maurizio checked his watch. ‘Andiamo! Non vogliamo fare tardi.’
He began to cross the L-shaped piazza, leaving Matthew and Sarah behind him.
