Day 14 & Thursday Doors: First two weeks of Tuscany

My first three blogs were called Mexi Movie. I’m ready for a film of my life. In fact, this is what my blog is. A film with lots of doors.

Prompt 14: “Today’s challenge is a fun one: write a poem that takes the form of the opening scene of the movie of your life.“

Nine years ago was 14th of April just like today, except everything was new.

The Mexi Movie

In the first scene, 
a pretty door presents itself. 
It opens
and the words come rolling up: 
“On this day nine years ago”.

A little car 
is showed on the map 
slowly making progress 
across the border into Italy
until the sign says TUSCANY.

It’s a cartoon,
and I who am watching it 
in the cinema with my parents
am five and crying, 
just like when I realised 
that one day my mother would turn 50.

Why Italy? 
I don’t even like Italians that much.
And where is this Tuscany anyway?
So FAR? 
How about my parents?
Why do I leave them? (More crying.)

I love my blog 
because it’s so much like the film of my life. 
I have a producer, 
the theme is set 
but the pages I must fill myself.

And you make an excellent audience.

In photos, the doors and other glimpses from my first two weeks in Italy. Most are from our home and our first trip to Tuscania on May the 1st 2013. We had to wait two more months to get bestia. I needed another year to start blogging and two more years to discover something called Thursday Doors, and yet my eyes and my camera were on them already.

And now? Onwards.

• 

  This scene awaited me. Amore’s father was making dinner for us.

• 

  He also built our gate himself.

• 

  This mailbox survived five years before disintegrating. Only one communal mailbox now.

• 

  This is why I never post our front door.

• 

  Our famous pasta curtain! (Not really.)

• 

  The view from our roof. The sea is just behind the last green row.

• 

  On the roof another day. We haven’t been up there together in years.

• 

  The first dog walk without a dog.

• 

  This beach house is now a fancy private club.

• 

  Comfy.

• 

  Tuscania, which is no longer in Tuscany but in Lazio.

• 

  Official greeter.

• 

  I love this scene. Never posted before.

• 

  Must be a cat.

• 

  Hotel “Rooster” with a stony one on top.

• 

  A scene through a gate.

• 

  Green scene one.

• 

  Green sceen two.

• 

  I love arches too.

• 

  Marco is amore’s name.

• 

  That was nice. Haven’t had coffee anywhere since October.

• 

  Fine balconies.

• 

  Must be a church.

• 

  And this must be the Pope John Paul II.

• 

  Bye, Tuscania! Nine years have gone by in a flash. Now it’s starting to drag. Photo and smile: amore

For Thursday Doors challenge hosted by Dan at No Facilities

The last day in my NaPoWriMo history

2018: Follow your dreams

A shark is a predator,
but you shall, you claim,
be a sheep dog.
A predator too,
with priorities straight.

A wobbly table:
In our house? Never.
You shall even change screws
for aesthetic reasons.
And for ever. (Read all.)

2019: Six years of practice

Hard to know
what he means sometimes
if a word
starts with H.
In his language it’s silent.
And illarious.

So we eat  
the furnace when cold
and heat fruit
and salad.  
At hate o’clock he tells them:
“I eight mosquitoes.” 

Read all.

2020: I have a dog

I have a dog. My dog has four legs and an attitude.
I have a record player. On my record player 
   there is more dust than records.
I have a sister. My sister is far.
I have two coats. One to keep me warm, 
   the other to keep me cool.
I have a plant. I have a plant to see 
   if I can keep something alive in my room.
I have Marco. I have Marco because I love him.
I haven’t seen a match in years.
I have a body. With the body I don’t do much at all.
I have destruction. We all do. Destruction is getting visible.

Read all.

2021: Nomen is oh, man!

I inherited Mexi,
the nickname of my father,
just that his is spelled Meksi;
both mean something larger.
...
But nomen est omen,
no hiding the plot:
So I eat and watch movies.
Rather a lot. 

Read all.

This day in my blogging history

• 2014: “Computations have been made by experts. With these pills, you save fifty-three minutes in every week.”

  “And what do I do with those fifty-three minutes?”

  “Anything you like . . .”

  “As for me,” said the little prince to himself, “if I had fifty-three minutes to spend as I liked, I should walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water.”

  —Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: “The Little Prince”, Chapter 23

• 2014: A crossroads, a house, a church, a cross

• 

  2014: It started with the hands

• 

  2016: Three years ago today my prince in a dark Ford snatched me away from everything I’d known.

• 

  2016: Thursday Doors from Rome with a wooden dog

• 

  2017: Four years in eight minutes