Occasionally, life wears me down to the bone. That’s normal I guess but my rants seem to carry the weight of the world at times when I struggle with expressing my frustrations in a foreign language.
For example, I have not quite learned the correct vocabulary just yet to say what a dickhead my driving teacher is! Instead I used words like “brutto” when I really meant to say “brutta figura”. The first one got a chuckle because all I said was that my teacher was ugly. But the second one I don’t even know how to translate except to say I think it means a person is being an asshole.
Obviously, today was one of those days and honestly, my driving teacher is an asshole. But I’m not sure if I was more upset about him or the fact that I could not challenge him on his terrible behavior towards a paying student. So I did the next best thing and I went to his boss and used every negative adjective I knew in Italian.
So be it, another day in the trenches. But after an exhausting morning I arrived home to a package sticking out of my mailbox. Enclosed, was a letter, a book and a gift, from a woman in Ireland that I’ve never met. She is somehow related to a person I did a recent book exchange with over the Internet.
I can’t tell you how much her random act of kindness touched me. Here I was cursing and biting back my frustration with all that was wrong with the world when someone took the time to write a letter, package up gifts and bring them to the post office for a complete stranger.
Thank you God for sending me Breda Cavanagh and for restoring my Faith.