Back seat confessions

Felicità ! (Happiness)

È un bicchiere di vino con un panino, la felicità! (Is a glass of wine and a sandwich, happiness!)

È lasciarti un biglietto dentro al cassetto, la felicità! (Is leaving you a note inside the drawer, happiness!)

È cantare a due voci quanto mi piaci, la felicità, felicità! (Is singing together how much I like you, happiness, happiness!)

„Felicità!“, Al Bano and Romina Power, 1982

It’s been a while since I have ridden in a car with two crying monsters. Okay, admittedly, monster is a harsh word considering these two girls look like dolls straight out of Toys "R" Us: big blue eyes, brown curly hair, dressed in identical pink polka dot dresses. Their bodies are tiny, complete with stompy feet resting in brown sandals. If I had arrived ten minutes earlier, before the fight over this stupid multi-colored hair tie erupted, I would have even come close to thinking that these girls look quite innocent and friendly - even angel-like. But luck is not on my side today and I definitely chose the wrong car for my hitchhiking adventure.

Hitchhiking has become one of my favorite forms of travel. Of course, I could also fly to my destinations, but where is the fun in that? I prefer being crammed in a metal box, observing how quickly people’s thoughts unravel once they believe no one important is listening. They spill their ambitions, their regrets, their secret wishes – and I am there, like some therapist who pretends to care. And while they do that, I get to indulge in that delightful tingling sensation called Schadenfreude, fully aware that their grand plans are about as meaningful as a sandcastle at high tide. Because let’s be honest: they all end up in the same place, don’t they? Buried under dirt, eventually forgotten by everyone. And even if one of them manages to squeeze their name into a history book - well…the ending doesn’t exactly change, does it? The earth stays the same, and so do the bugs in it.

So why would I travel any differently? Surely, sometimes, I change my travel arrangements, be it for timely reasons, comfort, or boredom, but more often than not, I find myself drawn to the hum of tires on asphalt.

So, here I am, trapped in the back seat of the car, squished to the left window, observing the twins screaming and pinching each other. Amusing as it was in the beginning, I start to get annoyed. On the verge of stopping the car, I suddenly hear a soft voice from the driver's seat: “Girls, what is going on over there…? Jacky?”. Jacky lifts her fist and diverts it towards Eli’s shoulder. “Aaahh” – a scream that puts my ears momentarily to sleep.

“Jacky stop it”, the voice in the front becomes sharper, yet the volume remains the same. “SHE’S NOT GIVING IT BACK!” Jacky’s voice pierces the air.

“Girls, enough.” The driver’s tone stays calm but carries a weight that makes the girls fall silent. He glances over his shoulder, then turns his attention back to the road. “I’ll get you something else, Jacky. But next time, we share, okay? You’re going to be in each other’s lives forever. You might as well start learning now.”

A self-satisfied smile creeps onto Jacky’s lips as she turns her gaze toward the window. Lucky them - I almost called it quits right then. One slightly longer look from the driver to the back, and the car would have kissed the highway barrier in no time.

A small flame flares up, flickering in the wind as the car speeds forward on the highway. The driver brings it close to his lips, lighting a cigarette with a slow inhale. The sharp scent of tobacco fills the car quickly. In the background, I hear soft Italian music playing, the driver quietly humming the melody while inhaling the smoldering herbs.

Felicità!

È un bicchiere di vino con un panino, la felicità!

Jacky sways her head to the beat, while Eli listens closely, trying to catch the words. The driver, between puffs, sings quietly along - wrong lyrics, but who cares? The refrain approaches, he turns up the volume, and all three of them are shouting: Felicità! Lalalalala lalalalala Felicità! Jacky starts beaming, Eli throws her arms up, and the driver laughs, pure enjoyment in his eyes. I catch myself smiling. It’s embarrassingly catchy; part of me wants to sing along, maybe even dance and scream like the rest of them. But instead, I just watch, trying to make sense of what is unfolding in front of me.

Some minutes ago, these girls were clawing and shrieking over a piece of elastic. Now they are laughing and singing. The purity of their joy is unfiltered: every giggle, every shout, every gesture is fully embraced. It’s reckless, ridiculous…but also fascinating. I will never be able to grasp these feelings or fully understand humankind…and for the briefest moment, that unpredictability makes me almost curious.

But there is one thing I surely know. This will be the moment and the place the twins will remember forever. The place where they sing Felicità at the top of their lungs with their father. The place where Eli fearlessly stretches her arm into the rushing wind, as if she could defy the very laws of physics. The place where Jacky throws her head back and forth, swinging to the beat of the music.

It is a place where words like calories, likes, or climate change do not exist. A place where cigarettes are simply part of the scene because even the word cancer has no place here – at least not yet.

It is a place the girls will return to, though it can’t be pinned to any GPS coordinates. It exists in a no-man’s-land, belonging only to them, their father's thirst for adventure, and a cheap hair tie.

Above all, it is a place that not even I, the silent and ruthless Death, can ever take away from them.