Operation Orphan Annie

It is the day before the summer solstice. There would have been a time when I would have heard a clock ticking in my head watching the skies getting darker each night feeling dread. But now, the cycles of the Earth seem to ground me, makes me sleep a little more in the winter, eat heavier pasta, drink darker wine, light candles in my bedroom as I write and the summer brings with it prosecco, caprese salads, foggy morning walks next to the lake.

Today, the Italian Alps show their snow caps from our hotel window in Bormio and I see Annie wrapped in her Spa robe, her tea cupped gently in her hand, staring to the horizon, as we wait for room service. The mountain air is cold and we all packed summer dresses, so we will stay in our robes and we will eat meals from covered plates. We will end our school year the way we started it…. at a spa, with tears. The goodbyes are almost too much. I think of my family in New York and how much I miss them, yet they let me go across the sea each August. I know, I too, have to let Annie go and by letting her go she will still always be there in my heart. I know I will always see her laughing, reversing backwards, eating fruit, even though she is fructose intolerant and might fart for hours afterwards. I will always be reminded of her humbleness in not realizing that she may, in fact, be the most beautiful person on the planet. Even making Mike the most non-committal person I know, say with a sigh, “I don’t want Annie to leave.”


She needs to go back. I hate it, but each of us are on our own path and she will find her way. I can’t help but secretly hope that the S.S. Vortex will be reunited sometime in the future, perhaps to create the community arts center we all dream about.




I can't believe what started off as operation orphan Annie is ending with her leaving. We had spent months texting her messages, "You know, you don't have to leave!" We cooked her dinner every night, lent her bags and sweaters and told her they could be hers if she just stayed.

What are Amy and I going to do without her?

"Are you ok?" Amy asked last night as we drank spremuta (fresh squeezed orange juice) at an outdoor cafe before heading to the movies.

"Yeah." I said quietly, "You?"

"Yeah." and then more forced conversation. Thank god for the movie, State of Play, which was anything but stellar. It wasn't until our walk home that we started laughing.

"We aren't ok with this, are we?" Amy laughed, "I mean do you ever remember a time when we had to force a conversation?"




"Why is she leaving us?" I said again as if an infant who can't accept the word "no".