Goodbye Sardinia

When august went to sleep and the first rains of autum filled the sardinian air with the frills and chills of september, all the Ponti family, after three months of heat and salty water spent in the white villa that overlooked the Cala Girgolu bay, was about to pack and leave. Rome, sweet Rone again. Oh, how I dreaded that moment! how I loved the pouring rain that pitterpattered on my little window and gushed down the winding road that lead to the sea in a cappucino coloured brook! I saw, believe me, in that savage waters, the sacred marriage of skies, earth and sea...
It was a time of deep thougth for little me (so much in love with Sardinia...) and of adventure. Down to the beach in my red raincoat I dashed and up and down the golden bay (Idid not fear the lightning that scared Mimma so much) to look for those pretty nothings that the tide, in rolling waves, brought back from who know where: a broken bucket, a piece of oar, a funny looking doll, with weed tangled in its hair. My treasures, all mine. I went back home carrying them in my arms, my glossy cheeks sparkling in the white skies while Tavolara, sitting o the horizon, bore a hat of  stranded clouds and smiled at me a deep, mysterious green smile,  a shade of the pink and pale blue one it wore during the long, peaceful summer days, in glorious lush.
Tavolara, the island of my heart, seemed to understand me. It looked at my treasures with bountiful, motherlike eyes. I smiled back and stood still and watched and felt its magic spell. The spell I still feel now and forever.

Here I am, home, little me. I leave my  precious bundle of broken life on a bench and up the stairs to my room to get changed. Up and down in a flash. "Mimma, where are the things I left here?". "That junk? I threw it out, right now, darling". Goodbye Sardinia.