Zucchero

There's nothing more comforting to me than someone asking "how are you?" Especially when it comes in Italian: "Come stai?" Lately, I've needed to be asked this. In Italian. By a man. It wasn't a close friend who asked me recently. "Come stai?" It was Zucchero, the eponymous Italian pop singer. And he wasn't directing his heartfelt question at me, but no matter, I'll take it. It's no small wonder that his name means "sugar" in Italian, as his music goes down easy. Very easy. And nothing has touched me more in these last days, as the warm way his sugary manly voice sings "come stai," in his pop ballad "Senza Una Donna" or "Without a Woman." I've had that song on repeat, or more precisely, I've hit the back-up button, so I could hear him say "come-stai?" Crazy? Yes, a little. But I'm a woman in transition, and I need all the cuddly warmth I can get my hands on. My heart and soul are already in Italy, just have to get the practicalities to follow. The need to be there is not borne out of a scraping need to be with any one person, but just an itching need to be in the country; to be living and working in that enveloping bloom of a place that has arrested my heart and my head. It seems my life depends on it. Dramatic? Yes! But I've never been a wall-flower, or a pansy, I want what I want. And I want this, and I see very clearly that there is no choice, but to have it. And to have it soon. Until then, Zucchero, will ask me how I am, to which I'll reply, "cosi-cosi," or so-so, or even "bene bene," or good good. But what I really want to say is "buonissima," roughly translated as luxurious, or terrifically wonderful. And I can only say that when I'm there, in Italy.