Comfortable Silence

By Emily Gagel

AFTER SETTLING INTO life in Cagli, I am struck by the ease of forming relationships across generations. In the United States, most young people feel comfortable approaching and speaking with their peers. If one sees a twenty-something fraternizing with someone in their sixties it’s assumed their bond comes from family ties, not friendship. I have rarely developed friendships with people even fifteen years my senior, let alone 50.

In Cagli, my first friend and still closest bond is with my neighbor, Romano; a man in his mid-seventies. At first, and maybe still, I question if his openness is politeness. When I pass him in the piazza we sit and share few stories from our day. There is an ease in our conversations despite the language barrier. In fact, I think the language barrier helps us sit in comfortable silence with one another, pausing at times to share a knowing glance about what we’re observing.

The physical interaction with Romano has also struck me as a cultural dissonance. He easily grabs my hand as we cross busy streets and I notice myself instinctively recoiling. As soon as I pull away my heart drops and I wish I could be more physically open. Growing up in the United States, a constant two-foot barrier surrounds me, even though a concerned touch is surprisingly comforting. My friendship with Romano reveals that a sense of humor and a smile means more than age and language.