A Guiding Light

Luci let the warm steam and fresh aroma of espresso fill her nostrils for a brief moment before taking a sip of her steamy Americano. It was a brisk autumn morning and Luci sat alone at a corner table in the busy Florentine cafe’, enjoying the quiet murmur of nearby conversations as she scribbled original Italian poetry in her little black notebook.

Socrates’s powerful sentiment, “a life unexamined is not worth living,” echoed in her head as she searched for the perfect word to finish her latest poem. Her latest Chatwin-style poetry journal was filling up quickly and she knew she’d have to buy a new one soon. Luckily Florence is a city known for its gorgeous journals and hand-crafted paper, and she knew exactly where to get a new one.

She paid her two-euro tab at the register, picked up her notebook and pen, and tossed them into the deep abyss of her slouchy Bohemian bag. She zipped up her chocolate brown faux-leather jacket, loosely tied her royal blue pashmina scarf around her neck and pulled her sunglasses down off the top of her head. She grabbed her bag and headed out the door to her favorite paper shop across town.

***

Luci, whose name meant ‘light’ in Italian, was often mistaken for a local Florentine. She had long, curly black hair, impeccable Italian language skills, and effortlessly-chic style. But Luci was actually born and raised in a sleepy little fishing town on the west coast of England where nothing exciting ever happened.

She had always dreamed of making a difference in the world through her writing and poetry, and inspiring others to follow their own passions. Not wanting to get into the whole social media rat-race, she couldn’t imagine how a Literature major, who could barely afford her own groceries and rent, could ever make a real mark on modern society.

She resigned herself to the notion that maybe she was meant to always be the silent observer and never the guiding light she always thought she could be.

***

As she strolled down the winding, narrow streets of Florence, Luci could feel cool air emanating from the stone of the surrounding buildings. On her way through a particularly shadowy alley, a sudden burst of bright white light caught her eye.

When she paused to take off her sunglasses in search of what caused the flash, she noticed a small storefront she had never seen before. The sign above the door read, Libreria, Italian for ‘bookshop.’ Perfect, maybe they’ll have a little black notebook, she thought.

She pushed open the creaky wooden door and a little bell at the top of the doorframe rang loudly. The shop had a musty smell and the shelves looked half-empty. She spotted a few rather large leather-bound books and quickly picked up La Commedia Divina by Dante Alighieri.

As she flipped through its thick pages, she noticed it was not only hand-bound, but entirely hand-written as well! Luci was admiring its craftsmanship when she heard footsteps coming from the back of the shop.

Luci tried to see who was there by peering through the half-empty bookshelves. She could see a young woman, about 16 or 17 years old, wearing a deep red Renaissance-style dress with poofy ivory sleeves and a billowy green skirt. She had dark blonde wavy hair, which was pulled back under a thin white veil, and her forehead was adorned with a delicate gold chain.

Was there a Renaissance festival going on in the Piazza della Signorina today? How could I have missed that? I must’ve completely bypassed the festival by taking the side streets here, she concluded.

Luci suddenly heard a loud thud and then a clinking-sound on the stone floor. The young woman, startled to see Luci behind the bookshelf, accidentally dropped her coin purse, spilling all its contents on the stone floor.

Luci immediately crouched down to help the girl collect her coins. There was a fleur-de-lis on one side with an image of St. John the Baptist on the other. Luci was surprised how heavy and beautiful they were for a cheap costume prop.

Before Luci could gather up all the coins off the ground, the young girl graciously bent down to help. “You gave me such a fright, I didn’t think there was anyone else in here,” the girl said in Florentine dialect. “Are you here to pick up a commissioned copy of literature as well?”

That’s kind of an odd question, Luci thought. Trying not to be rude, she responded in Italian, “I’m so sorry to have startled you, I was actually just looking for a new notebook. Amazing costume, by the way, are you acting in the festival?”

The girl looked confused. “Festival? Oh the festival isn’t until our wedding day in a few weeks’ time,” she clarified. “I actually came here today to pick up my commissioned copy of Petrarchan love poems as a wedding gift to my fiance’, Piero di Cosimo de’ Medici.”

Luci’s mind raced trying to make sense of what the girl said. She silently pondered the situation. Why is she talking about marrying a Medici? Is this all part of the Renaissance festival? Maybe she’s trying to stay in character… Okay, I can play along…

“So, you’re getting married soon?” Luci enquired, “to Piero di Cosimo de’ Medici, you say?”

“Yes, I am very happy. Piero is a good man and our families will have a strongly bonded alliance now,” she explained. After a long pause the young woman asked, “Why, pray tell, are you dressed in men’s clothing?”

“Men’s clothing?!” Luci huffed defensively, momentarily forgetting about the role-playing. “I mean… dressing like a boy is the only way for a poor girl to be out and about amongst the other writers. It’s the only way they’ll accept me as a real poet.”

“You’re a writer?!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never met another female writer in person. I love poetry and I’ve even written a few poems myself, but I’ve never shown them to anyone,” she confessed as her cheeks blushed from embarrassment.

“You like poetry? Are you a fan of Shakespeare?” Luci asked.

“I adore Dante, Petrarca, and Boccaccio,” the girl said, “but who is this Shakespeare? I’ve never heard this name, is he Roman?” she asked with such convincing curiosity that Luci forgot she was still role-playing.

“Who’s Shakespeare! You’re joking, right? Here… let me show you.” Luci pulled out the book to show the young woman. “I always carry one of the great works in my bag for a little extra inspiration. This version of Julius Cesar is actually Domenico Valentini’s translation into Tuscan dialect from 1756.”

“Did you say 1756?” the girl confirmed. “That would mean he wrote this over 300 years from now. How is that possible?” she said as her face started to grow pale.

Luci, marvelling at the girl’s outstanding acting abilities said, “Oh, well, that’s because... I’m from the future. Look, I can prove it,” she said as she pulled out a little black notebook filled with her own Italian poetry and 21st century observations.

As the young woman flipped through the pages, she saw mysterious words like “cell phone,” “car,” “laptop,” she couldn’t believe her eyes. Being a highly-educated woman, she wasn’t fooled very easily, but she had no explanation for this. She concluded that Luci must not be of this world.

“Are you an angel?” she asked earnestly. “Have you been sent to guide me towards my life’s purpose?”

“Uhm… Well... I would certainly encourage you to continue with your poetry,” Luci said as she handed the girl her nearly-full little black notebook. “Here, I want you to have this. I’m in need of a new notebook anyway.”

The young girl was taken aback and didn’t quite know how to express her gratitude. “You are giving me this… this divine scripture? Is this a gift from Heaven?”

“Uh, sure, something like that,” Luci chuckled. “Just be sure to give me some credit when you become rich and famous one day.”

“Please, I can’t accept this gift without giving you something in return. Take these coins, I was supposed to pay the booksmith with them, but I will ask my brother, Govanni, for more Florin to pay the booksmith tomorrow.”

“If you must,” Luci said dramatically, getting a bit wrapped up in the make-believe scene. She knew the coins were worthless, but she thought they looked cool regardless. “I will consider them a fair exchange for the gift I have bestowed upon you.”

“Thank you, I will be forever grateful to you.” The young woman handed Luci a small leather bag containing the 20 gold-colored coins.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Luci jokingly said with a smile. “By the way, my name is Luci. I didn’t get your name?”

“My name is Lucrezia Tornabuoni, and I will never forget you, Luci,” she said as she bowed her head and exited out the back of the shop.

***

As Luci hurried out the front door and continued on her way to the paper shop, she saw another flash of bright white light, just as she saw earlier. When she turned around, she noticed a set of large wooden doors she had never noticed before.

There was a gold-colored plate on the building that read: Lucrezia Tornabuoni Women’s School of Writing, est. 1470.

I’d swear that place wasn’t there this morning, she thought. Luci pushed open one side of the towering wooden doors and entered into the open courtyard.

Standing in the center was a large bronze statue of a woman with long curly hair, a loosely-tied scarf and a leather-style jacket. She had a Boho bag over one shoulder, a pen in one hand and a journal in the other as if she were writing in it.

At the base of the figure there was an inscription on a plaque that read: Lucrezia Tornabuoni, wife of Piero de’ Medici, was known for her unbounded generosity, her life-long patronage of the arts, and her highly-acclaimed religious poetry. She was visited by an Angel named Luci in 1444.

In utter disbelief, Luci suddenly realized what had happened. Her thoughts raced as she put all the pieces together in her mind. She pulled out her purse and examined the gold coins. I have to get these appraised immediately. Luci tried to keep her cool as she speed-walked out of the school and down to the Ponte Vecchio, where all the finest Florentine gold shops were located.

***

Luci eagerly handed the elderly goldsmith her purse of coins for an appraisal. He straightened his gold wire framed glasses, placed a magnifying glass under a bright light, and carefully examined the coins one by one.

After several minutes the man lifted his head, removed his glasses and said, “Due to the like-new condition of these early 15th century coins, each one would be worth at least $1,000 on the market today, that means you have over $20,000 worth of antique coins here, Signorina.”

As Luci left the shop and headed towards her apartment, her mind buzzed imagining all she could do and buy with her unexpected windfall. She was grateful for her encounter with Lucrezia, and for the profound impact it had on her life. Luci also reflected on the difference she had made in Lucrezia’s life, and the hundreds, if not thousands, of aspiring female writers who have attended the writing school since the 1400’s.

Perhaps I wasn’t meant to make my mark on the 21st century after all, Luci pondered. Perhaps I was always meant to make a difference in the 15th century and positively influence countless generations after that! Then with a warm smile and a strong sense of personal satisfaction, she thought, not too shabby for a 22-year old Lit major who can barely afford her rent. I guess you don’t have to be a social-media influencer to have an impact on the modern world!