Elegantly Unrefined

August in Italy means cellphones overflow with photos of beaches, mountains, an occasional medieval town and then more beaches and mountains. That's why the other day I was happy when a friend sent me a shot of a ramshackle staircase. It started out narrow, widened in the middle and narrowed again near the top before a sharp, left turn. The stairs were a mix of well-worn stone and what might have been unevenly poured concrete painted black or dark sheet metal folded and molded to cover the crumbling steps. The brick walls on the way up looked ready for tuckpointing. A week earlier they had probably been covered with perfectly scruffy, flowering weeds.

I received the photo with a few others that went unnoticed, but this one deserved a response.  "Che belle scale," I wrote (what beautiful stairs), to which she replied, "Sapevo che ti sarebbero piaciute. Ami le cose un po' storte e non rifinite perche' le senti piu' vere e con una loro indentita'." (I knew you would like them. You love things that are a little crooked and unrefined because you feel they are more real and have their own identity.)

Her message wasn't sent to flatter me, but it did. I'm not against elegance and order, but I find the beauty that comes with age (unless it's my own) more impressive. Dilapidated stairs aren't something we've discussed, but a quick walk around my house is all it takes to learn that the dog-eared pages in an Architectural Digest (if I read it) would be those dedicated to crooked and unrefined.

What flattered me about the message was her comprehension. When I finally get a chance to talk (outside of English lessons), I'm excited to share thoughts and ideas, but often left wondering if I've been understood. My friend's perfect interpretation of my feelings demonstrates an attentive and interested listener...one of the biggest compliments you can give someone. In addition, her message is a friendly reminder that the beauty that comes with age (even my own) is real and a necessary part of our identity.