I’ve been sick the last few days and part of my recovery program has been reading in the sun here in the mountains of Liguria- I’m not complaining.
The house I’m in is right on a main road, so all day long people potter on past on their merry way like a Richard Scarry book.
A pair of French cyclists.
One of those silly little three wheeled trucks.
A modern car with tourists.
A local heading to a village further up the mountain
As seems to be the way here, some wave hello to me as they pass. Well most wave out to me.
It’s gotten to the point now where as I hear the vehicle ambling up the road I have this whole internal conflict, or meeting of myself.
Do I initiate a wave or do I just not look up from my book? Do I look up expecting a wave?
Am I feeling cheery and confident or sick (literally) and “engrossed” in my book.
Well I’m never so engrossed that I don’t hear the car, so not waving becomes a very deliberate choice. I tell myself I don’t need to wave and I’m making myself unnecessarily vulnerable by baring my wrists and initiating the wave to the stranger.
I decided it’s most in line with my chosen identity to wave. That’s a human who is near me, so it makes the most sense to wave.
With every car that cruises by I get to cast a vote for the type of person I want to be.
I’m pretty okay with being the type that waves at strangers and not the type who stays with my head down in self protection.
Sure, some people don’t wave back, but there I remain happily reading my book in the sun.
