Keeping Friends

Meeting people in Florence is easy, but keeping them in your life is difficult. The circumstances that draw people to and away from this town are many. 

Some come here to study, knowing their days here are counted. Others come without an expiration date; there is the lost person, who comes to Italy with a personal mission to rediscover, reinvent and find themselves; there is the dreamer, who sipped a cappuccino, looked into their cup of coffee and saw visions of a new life reflecting back at them; then there is the lover, taking a chance or trying to forget a bad decision, he comes here to escape or submit to love’s power, letting fate and destiny determine his life.

I have made a handful of friends, and I use the word “friend” in its truest sense, but every now and then, one of us questions whether the other will stay around.  We size each other up, trying to categorize each other by the characters listed above, determining the probability that the winds of change will carry one of us away. Since I am the newly arrived, it is usually falls on me to convince the other that I will stay.

When I meet people, one of the first conversations we have is why you are here and how long will you stay. Depending on the connection, they delve deeper to find out my true intentions for being in Florence.  It’s like they need a contract or guarantee that I won’t suddenly up and leave, making the time we spent together a wasted investment.

Before my closest friend became my friend, we had a conversation about how long I intended to stay. I could hear distress and hope in her voice that I would not be one of those people who come and go, leaving her with a yet another disappointment. I had to assure her that I came here with the decision to build a new life, to make Firenze my permanent home.

At that time, I did not see what the big deal was. I could not understand the fuss. I love meeting new people. The more people you know the better.

This week I invited one of my readers to meet me for a coffee. Her response was yes, but she was kind enough to warn me ahead of time that she would soon be leaving. When I first read her e-mail I thought, no big deal, meeting someone is never a waste of time.

But today I am no longer the newcomer. Today I understand. My friend, who I consider family (although he may not want that big responsibility), told me he may be leaving Florence for at least three months. I don’t know why, but I started crying. And I am crying now just thinking of it.

I could not believe I was crying. What’s wrong with me?

“You’re growing up,” he said.

Is this what happens when you grow up? People leave?

Now I look back at all of my relationships and people I have encountered since that day in June that I arrived. I can count a handful of loves and friends, that I have left behind in Sicily to return to Firenze, and that have left me behind in Firenze to return to their home. It truly makes me blue.