By My Side

Dear Chloe,

For nearly half my life, on my bedside table, I've had a miniature of La Pietà. It's the last thing I see at night, and the first thing I see in the morning. I remember the day, clearly, when I first saw a picture of the Pietà. I was transfixed. I realize this may sound like heresy, but I had never seen anything so remarkable yet ephemeral. Here was an object craved out of a block of marble by one man, and he had brought it to life. It was the most beautiful I had ever seen and, in a way, it was akin to falling in love.

In 1993 I had the opportunity to go to Roma with the AP Art History class, which would be the perfect opportunity to meet La Pieta. However, that year I was also planning on going to Thessaloniki with the Forensics team. I, of course, thought the most logical solution was to go Italy and Greece. Being an airline kid, and having the privilege of free travel, I thought that would be the best solution. Sadly, my parents didn't see it that way and I was forced to choose between two tantalizes choices.

Italy or Greece? Italy or Greece? Greece or Italy?

In the end I chose to go to Greece, and to be perfectly honest I don't regret it. The Forensics team that went to Thessaloniki was internationalism personified- a heady mixture of interesting personalities, beautiful girls, minimal (if any) supervision, and complete freedom in the perfect backdrop of Salonika. The trip was legendary. In terms of fun had, rules broken, and general mayhem it was perfect, I, for one, have not laughed so much in my life. In Retrospect, I made the right choice and had a wry smile seeing the triumphs youth fade into high school lore.

Nevertheless, I digress. Why didn't I go to Rome? I didn't believe I'd enjoy it as much. For me, la Pietà, deserved more time and far more respect than a 16 year old can even begin to imagine. So I wisely passed. I did however ask a friend to get me a miniature Pietà- the same one that sits by my bedside tonight. I guess all well that ends well? This same friend 'borrowed' my beloved copy of the Hitchhikers Guide and promptly neglected to return it. I guess, in a way, the Pietà was a fair trade.

What do I see in the Pietà?
The attention to detail. The love and effort in creating a timeless work of pure beauty. A gift to last the ages. Some might be moved by the religious imagery, however for me that is secondary. I'm inspired by its grace. And by the love that went into its creation.

Over the years my relationship with the Pietà has changed.

It used to be a symbol of everything that is wonderful in life, of love, of happiness, of all the elements of living that make us feel whole and feel connected to others, and that makes us realize we are not alone, a sort of love "shedding light on all that was irrational, all that was inevitable about the world."

Now it's my companion. The one constant that has been with me for half my time in this world. Every day that I've set out to face the world and challenges- days where I have faced my fears and triumphs. Every night I have returned to it, sometimes sad, sometimes hopeful, and sometimes lost. It has witnessed my greatest moments of joy and the depths of my despair. It symbolizes my triumphs, and is a little reminder of lessons learned from the dark night.

I hope to see la Pietà one day. On that beautiful day, I am with you when first set our eyes on her. Will you understand the magnitude of the moment? I'm not sure. But I will hold your hand, for that moment will symbolize a transition in my life. The Pietà of years past will make way for a new Pieta, you. You, I hope will be the constant in my life, one with whom I'll spend the remainder of my days, my companion through the rest of this journey.

Till that day,

Love, K