Of This, I Am Sure

by NATALIA BADGER

If I ever get out of this city, I shall live a little life that is slow and soft. I am sure of it. I shall rest my feet in the meadows of the Swedish Lapland and host my book club amidst lush woodland beside a glacial creek the color of fresh milk. We’ll talk about Proust and revel in the beauty of our surroundings but mostly just drink rosé. I shall plant a not-so-great berry garden which I will water every morning and in the spring I will pluck not-so-ripe blueberries right off their bushes. Although it will not be the best berry garden in the world, it will be my own, and that will be reason enough to cherish it.

One day I shall take the leap and apply to be a tour leader in the Northern forest reserves of Botswana. I am sure of this. I’ll acquire muscles that don’t exist in normal people after months of daily biking and long sojourns across the wide veld. My fellow trip leaders and I will come to find that we love dancing in a rain with no breeze, that we love the groggy silence shared during our early mornings. We’ll go our separate ways when our contracts expire and we may never see each other again, but we’ll be lifelong friends all the same, bound by innumerous hours spent shivering in windy mountain storms.

In a year’s time, I shall pack up my things and move to Chile with my cousin Grace. I am sure of it. I shall join a class of hers to learn about astronomy and to see her in her natural environment, as a master and a teacher. I’ll probably quit after I realize that astronomy is more than just stargazing and that she expects me to do homework like everyone else. But it will be worth it, because I will get to spend nights in the Atacama under the galaxy, surrounded by her brilliant professor friends and their world of stars.

When I leave this city, I will take that leap, I will go to the coast of Thailand. I shall spend a summer in the sun teaching an online art history class, making videos for my students discussing the Old Masters while waves crash and sizzle in the background. I’ll tell my students that they too must take the leap and come to Thailand, and they’ll think I’m crazy. But it will be okay, because I know I will have planted the seed in some of their heads.

But when I think about it, maybe a leap doesn’t require me to actually leap–not just yet. Maybe I can live my life slowly, softly, and unexpectedly here, in the now. This city is my present and I see now that there is still much exploring to be done, many more leaps to be taken here. The future is silent and emits no sound–how can I know where she wants me to go just yet? How can I be so sure? Sometimes I can feel her winds pointing me one way or the other, and I know she is waiting for me. My heart yearns for her mysterious embrace, yearns to laugh at the absurdity of finding myself in a ferocious Moroccan sandstorm. I long for those worn cobble streets and ancient hidden footpaths which will one day be known to the soles of my shoes. These places I’ve never been to where I already belong– they remain, they wait for me as She does. And one day, I’ll make it to them, all of them. I am sure of it.

For winter break, my family went on a boat trip along the Galapagos Islands. Avid free divers, my little sister and I were thrilled by the chance to swim with turtles, rays, penguins, and sea lions.

by NATALIA BADGER

During my time living and studying Italian in Rome my friends and I took a trip to Cinque Terre. In our Airbnb, we exchanged smiles reassured that we made the right destination choice. I took this photo because I couldn’t get over how beautiful my bedroom window was, but in reality it was just a photo I Whatsapp messaged my mom as proof of my arrival.

by NATALIA BADGER

Palazzo Barberini Staircase

Staircase at Palazzo Barberini, now the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, in Rome, Italy. Thehelicoidal staircase was designed by Italian architect Franceso Borromini.

by MARTINA DELIGIO