We did it. We flew.

The first day I always think — I am fine.

But it is not until the third day that I understand that I was not fine.

But I will be.

I always am.

We are here deliberately to soak up inspiration. Beauty. Joy.

We are here to hold hands and to dream.

Not knowing how to begin again after the world changed, we just took off walking, trying to wrap the city around us again. This block, that block, street by street our former life began to unfurl itself.

More and more things familiar.

We found ourselves walking past the hospital where I had spent all those hours in Pronto soccorso… the emergency department.

It was wicked hot. We rested under the chestnut trees.

By the statue of the woman riding the koi.

We go from bench to bench around the park. Hoping for Wi-Fi. For a message. For a signpost. For direction. But we just keep walking.

I am thinking of grace.

With all the troubles all around there is even more opportunity to reach for grace.

The past four years so much has happened.

With every step — we move closer to the next thing we have to face.

The action of moving forward with our legs – moves us forward in our heads and hearts.

There is this story from Exodus.

When my ancestors were running from Egypt and came upon the shores of the Reed sea — they stood at the edge of the water.

Everyone stood there. What would happen next, everyone wondered.

One man, Nachshon, stepped forward.

He began to step into the water. He walked into the sea while the water covered his knees. His waist, his chest. His neck. His chin.

It is said that it was not until the water covered his eyes that the waters began to recede — to split — and we know that our ancestors walked through the split in the sea to escape the Egyptians.

They bravely walked into their future.

In our lives – in our collective life — When there is change we have to bravely step forward into the water — we have to trust that we will all be okay.

This is what we are doing today.

Every step. 12,576 steps.

After a few hours, in the afternoon we stop at a bookstore.

We know a boy who is almost five years old.

We buy him a gift.

The gift bag is covered with planets.

We find a bank of pink umbrellas.

Next to a dog park.

We order due caffè. I hand over two euro coins.

We are handed little pink paper cups.

We sit under the umbrellas, in reclining chairs on the gravel.

We watch the dogs playing.

At 19.00 it is still quite hot.

We are lucky today.

We meet two well-loved friends for dinner – and somehow six show up to surprise us.

The joy is multiplying.

After laughter and stories it is now dark.

Until tomorrow.

A domani.