The meaningful stuff of Paradise.

I’m beginning to understand Sardinians. Why they stick around. Don’t leave. Stay all  their lives. Because they have Sardinian blood. Roots. They revere the land. The sea, too. And everything that’s living around them. Bruno is teaching me that. When we go for a walk. In the forested park. Then down the streets of his hometown, Carbonia. He was born here. Went to school. Grew up. Met his wife Mariella. And Bruno takes time to smell the flowers. Literally. And there’s a flower of one kind or another blooming all the time. Year-round. And there’s palm trees and umbrella pines and cacti.  A wonderful blend of  flora and fauna. We walked on a brisk and windy day. The constant threat of rain. Caps on our heads. Scarves around our necks. Across piazzas. Down Via Gramsci, the main street. Bruno greets a friend. Introduces me. An Americano. Anyway, I’m conscious of the fact that I’m on a guided tour of Paradise. And Bruno knows that’s where he is, too. In Paradise. One would have to be crazy to leave. Despite the bad economy. That’s only minor stuff. When one learns to savor the meaningful stuff. –Jim Broede