I submitted my second manuscript to my agent, bought a house, and spent one month in Italy with my family. It was easy adjusting to the pace of life there, maneuvering the language is a story for another time.
While I captured a few photos, there were moments that could not fit into the frame of the camera.
I feasted on the bounty of Italy by spending my days in San Benedetto del Tronto, a small beach town that fed my spirit.
I strolled to Bon Ton for cafe and cornetti, sipped Campari spritz, and played spades at Chalet Alex.
I swam and played beach volleyball in the Adriatic sea.
I lingered over three-hour lunches, slept in my loving husband’s arms at siesta, and ate the most gratifying gelatos before dinner. (Amaretti was my favorite.)
Leaving the beach every few days, we visited cities across Italy.
I clambered up the streets of Grottammare — a medieval town in the hills, overlooking the sea.
I sat on a rooftop and walked along the Arno in Florence.
I took the train to Pisa through fields and fields of sunflowers.
I stopped in Cortona, and ate lunch on the jetties overlooking the blue water of Lago Trasimeno.
I stood in awe of the Fontana di Trevi in Rome.
And met and dined with new and old friends in Venice.
When the waiter asked what wine we would have, a friend said, “Bring us the best you have.” When Gino, my brother in law, gave a speech about togetherness and friendship, the essence of the moment moved us all to tears. We raised our glasses and sipped wine. Fourteen of us dined under the blue skies, facing the gondolas gliding by.
When our cultures meet and we invite each other in, the universe opens.
