When I make the Sign of the Cross I don't think of God. The funny thing is, I have a feeling I'm not the only one. The difference is, I'm not really making a gestural prayer, I'm just looking for my glasses. Sometimes I store them on my head and other times they hang from my collar. If they're not on my face when I need them, I go for my head. If I don't find them there, I touch my chest. And there you have it---the first two strokes of the Sign of the Cross.
I'd been doing it for years without thought. It was a visit from my 15-year old niece that brought it to my attention. I hadn't seen her for a couple of years and I suppose anything can happen when one moves to Italy, but I was shocked when she asked if I'd converted to Catholicism. "What?!" I said. She said she'd noticed that I was always making the Sign of the Cross. God was never in my thoughts when I did it, but now my niece is.
Several years ago one of my favorite lunchmates told me that she used to notice how I destroyed my napkin eating a bagel with cream cheese and a little packet of strawberry jam. When I got too lazy to spread the jam I'd just dip the bagel into the little plastic packet. It's not the easiest thing to do without making a little mess. I'm glad she didn't tell me until I moved away because I liked eating it that way. Now when I start shredding my napkin as I'm enjoying a pizza with big, wet pieces of mozzarella di bufala, I go for my knife and fork and think of her.
In the past I don't think MY idiosyncrasies made me think of other people. I'd be reminded of old friends by certain restaurants, wavy days at the lake, a particular kind of weather, a shoe style or a certain word or phrase, but not by things that I did. The little joy I feel when I search for my glasses and crumple my napkin got me thinking that maybe I could force people to think of me by discreetly touching on some of their quirks and mannerisms.
I started with an exceptionally handsome (that's "old lady" for hot) young student. We had our lessons at a bar over cappuccino and a hot milk with cocoa. I know that sounds a little "old lady", too, but that's how I order my hot chocolate here. Ordering a cioccolata calda in Italy is entirely different from a tall skim cocoa at Starbucks.
Fortunately, he liked to add sugar to his cappuccino or I would've missed out on the way he cleaned his spoon. Some days it seemed like he stirred it a hundred times while I sat patiently waiting for the lick, which wasn't really even a lick. He just put it in his mouth and slowly enjoyed the sugary foam that stuck to the spoon. Then it was all over before he could say, "I sorry, but I haven't study many," with his wonderful accent. (Keep in mind, I got paid for this.) At his last lesson he blushed when I told him that I was going to miss the way he licked his spoon. The seed had been planted.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty trying to plant it, as if I'm trying to control something that shouldn't be in my control. I've even started thinking about times that I'd like to be thought of to see if I can plant some seeds there. Like when someone blows out a candle. It's often done at the conclusion of a special evening or before someone makes a wish. Those would be nice times to pop into someone's head. But how can I plant that seed? Am I going to say, "I like the way you blow out candles"? I suppose it's no stranger than, "I'm going to miss the way you lick your spoon."
I guess all I'm really trying to do is be remembered. Or to not be forgotten. In the end it doesn't really matter when you think of me as long as you do it from time to time. But if you need a little help, I can plant a few seeds. (Unfortunately they won't be about your personal quirks, those will have to be done on a one-to-one basis.) Don't worry, I won't try to steal the show and say at the grand finale of the fireworks or when you see a rainbow or a shooting star. I know those are reserved for someone special. But here's a little list of when I'd like to come to mind.
When the pilot says, "prepare for landing,"
when you do a cannonball,
when you're squeezing out the ketchup at McDonald's,
the first day in a new pair of running shoes,
when you wear hot pink,
the first bite of a soft-serve ice cream cone,
while you're listening for the last pops of your popcorn,
when you lick the beaters,
when you see heat lightening,
when you can't get the ribbon to slide off a gift,
when the waiter brings two spoons with your dessert and you don't have the courage to tell him one is plenty,
when your TV breaks,
and of course.....when you eat chocolate chip cookies.
There. Some seeds have been planted. Now I just hope they'll be sown.
