“What” and “If” are two words as non-threatening as words can be. But put them together side-by-side and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life: What if? What if? What if? I don’t know how your story ended but if what you felt then was true love, then it’s never too late. If it was true then, why wouldn’t it be true now? You need only the courage to follow your heart. I don’t know what a love like Juliet’s feels like – love to leave loved ones for, love to cross oceans for but I’d like to believe if I ever were to feel it, that I will have the courage to seize it. And, if you didn’t, I hope one day that you will.

All my love,

Juliet

From the movie Letters to Juliet (2010)

My eyes rested at the rose window of the Basilica di San Zeno Maggiore, it’s cream walls contrasting the blue sky from above. Behind it, I could glimpse the bell tower sound still at this hour. Below the rose window was the entrance to the Basilica, an arc held by two small columns. Surrounding the door were sculptures depicting stories from the bible. It’s bronze doors were wide open, presenting the basilica’s open hall.

I dragged myself nearer until my feet were barely at the porch of the basilica. Should I step in? Within those walls is the woman who gave me a reason to leave this place. Verona is and always will be my home but coming back felt exceptionally different. Before I could step inside the basilica, I decided on taking a breath of fresh air and calm my nerves.

Walking past the piazza, walking through Vicolo Dietro Caserma Chiodo, a merchant offered his wine as his horse heaved his cart. He raised the jar of wine, panting, and showed it to me. It would have tasted sweet drinking a cup of wine as the sun finally sets, however it does not seem appropriate on the place I will be going back to.

I could hear the gurgling waters of the Adige, my feet paced up until I could see the river flowing.  It was here that we first met, a struggling winemaker and a free-spirited noblewoman. From one of the residential houses overlooking the Adige, I saw you, azure gown.  You have been engrossed on a book you were reading as you sat on a balustrade unafraid that you might fall down. I stared at you for a moment. I grinned, thinking of the Shakespeare play that had been roaming around Verona.  The wind brushed over your hair, your golden headdress crowning you remained unperturbed.  

A winemaker, enamored of your beauty, a tragedy about to happen like that of hapless Romeo.  Everyday, I walk by this river, and everyday, you were there – a different book each time. And every day, we share glances from afar for this is what it will ever be.  A winemaker could never be accepted by the family of a noblewoman.  

Private moments at the grassy edges of  Lake Garda, and trysts at the Basilica di San Zeno Maggiore.  But this can never be enough for me. I wanted more. I wanted to be someone you can be proud of, someone you can shout out to the world.  I wanted to be worthy.

And so I left.  Will you ever wait for me?

My feet subconsciously led me back to the basilica.  When I stepped inside its halls, a woman in dark pleated habit and veil approached.  A crucifix was hanging just below her white guimpe.

“It has been a long while,” she muttered.

Image adapted from “large storage jar found in Agrigento – located off the south-west coast of Sicily – it actually dates as far back as 4000 BCE.” by tonynetone is licensed under CC BY 2.0