A brief return to Sicily

What follows is a short story from Rosemary’s past. After talking with her, I have taken our discussion and turned it into a series of small stories highlighting the incredible life that she has led. Direct quotes from our discussion are highlighted in quotation marks. All else is a retelling written by yours truly.

When exactly this was during Rosemary’s time in Bedford, she can’t remember. But at some stage during their years there, Bill came home with exciting news. The inaugural flight from London to Sicily was just announced, and Bill had procured two tickets.

They would fly to Palermo and spend the weekend exploring their old haunts before coming back on the flight back two days later.

Well, after finding a sitter for the children, Rosemary packed her bags and she and Bill went off on their weekend adventure. It was much simpler than the drive she remembered all those years ago – although there was no pizza to enjoy mid-journey.

The day after arriving they rented a car and drove on up to their old house. The house itself, up the hill, wasn’t accessible by car, but as Rosemary walked the last leg of the journey she remembered the cobbled streets with the random goats and animals she had got so used to passing. Familiar sights mixed with a decade of change.

They turned down their street and found the little shop that lived under their flat.

It was a little bittersweet because the landlord’s wife had just passed and he was in mourning. He did recognise them after a while and was happy to see them, but Rosemary and Bill had such fond memories of his wife as well. She had been so kind to them, they both had.

They stayed with the landlord for a few moments but didn’t want to burden him and left shortly afterwards. He gave them two bottles of wine as a gift for their visit. Rosemary was touched by this gesture and she and Bill thanked him greatly.

As they left, walking back down the wobbly stones towards their car, a lady walked past. She called to them, asking in Italian where their son was. She had remembered Rosemary’s first child. The child who was now off at university.

Well the lady didn’t speak any English and Bill and Rosemary only knew a little Italian so the conversation wasn’t particularly fruitful, but it was a lovely memory for Rosemary as she relived her very first cross-country move.

Stay tuned for more stories from the life of Rosemary. Please note: these stories will not necessarily hold any chronological grounding. They are designed as snippets of understanding into the life of Rosemary and while some will hold chronology, others may not.