“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” – Mark Twain

 I found out very early on why. My parents were in love. What am I saying: they are in love! The kind of love that makes a young child gag, a young adult desperately want, and an old person cherish. I heard the story my whole life. On every anniversary my dad would start with a toast to my mom. She would blush, putting her hand on his and say, “You don’t have to tell our story every year.”

My dad’s response, “How else will she learn what love truly is and what it takes to stay in love?” 

 Yes, I was a part of their anniversary every year. I had to be because I was their cherished jewel that came out of their union. It was hard enough to be told that but they told everyone we met through my high school years. I so wanted to be the hidden jewel when that story was told. Secretly, I did like the story and maybe loved the story. I think that was why it hurt when they stopped for a couple of months. But I digress. This is their story that they told.

My dad would start his story about how they ended up at the same fraternity party. My dad said it was love at first sight, my mom said, it was my dad’s perseverance. To hear my mom tell the story, my dad was your typical math guy. His personality was kind of boring. He wasn’t an outdoor person at all. He wasn’t the most outgoing person. My mom thought she wanted the life-of-the-party kind of guy. Mom was very outgoing and probably has never met a stranger. She thought she needed someone as open as her. Once I asked my mom why she thought he was kind of boring because I thought he was funny. Her response, “I think your dad and I have melded together after all these years. He became more open and I have settled down. I think in a good marriage you balance each other or you become one. Your dad and I became one.”

 What brought my mom around to start dating my dad was he wouldn’t give up on her. When he found out she was a landscape major he would show up at her dorm with a plant each week. He would tell her he found this plant that needed some love and thought of her. By the fifth week she was waiting to see what plant he would bring her. He never asked her out. He would just talk about how she would care for this plant. Ask her how her week went? Did she have any exams yet? Simple things like that. By week ten my mom’s roommate was tired of all the plants and made my mom ask my dad out. My mom didn’t think they would have things to talk about but dad proved her wrong. My dad loved to read so he started reading about landscape architecture the day after he met her.

 On their first date dad took mom to Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill not far from their campus at the University of Washington. There are so many parks in Seattle to pick from, but dad chose this one because it was designed by John Olmstead. His father, Frederick Olmstead was the man who designed Central Park. Since dad was from New York City he thought it was the perfect place for their first date. Their date didn’t start off well because dad was walking around telling mom all the details of the place that he had read. Dad could see mom was bored so he changed tactics. He started asking her questions about the plants they were seeing. They could actually have a conversation about everything. They both agreed that they thought the conservatory was the highlight of the park. The greenhouse was the perfect place to stroll through on a cold and damp afternoon. 

 Because of all my dad’s reading it led my mom into a whole different area of studies. He asked her all kinds of questions that made her look up the answers. Her own research led her down a new path. She was still in landscape architecture; it was the area of concentration that changed. She had grown up on a farm and thought she would move back and help her brother and his family run the farm. Her brother had already taken over the farm from their dad. The Christmas break after meeting my dad, my mom talked to her brother about changing her idea of coming home and working with him on the farm. Uncle Bob just wanted her to be happy and he liked the idea of her study of the ecological landscape. He was all about trying to help the environment. He was in the process of changing the way he farmed. Now Uncle Bob has an organic farm that has little impact on the environment. It was more work but the whole family felt better about leaving this place, better than when they got here. My grandpa didn’t totally understand it, but my grandma said she loved what they had done with the farm. She said grandpa was an old man who hated change, but deep down he knew it was the right thing to do.

My mom realized that my dad was quiet though he was really funny and so smart he could do anything he wanted. He retained everything he read. He was like a walking encyclopedia. You never wanted to play a trivia game with him unless you were on his team. This was one of their activities they did with a few friends. Whoever had the time for a game they would look around town to find a place to play. They have traveled over an hour to play a trivia game at some pub. This was the only time mom would eat out at a restaurant. It had to be a very conventional restaurant. She was a meat and potatoes kind of gal. Dad grew up trying all kinds of foods and loved them all. 

              

Life is a series of punches. It presents a lot of challenges. It presents a lot of hardship, but the people who are able to take those punches and are able to move forward are the ones that really do have a lot of success and have a lot of joy in their life and have a lot of stories to tell, too. — Josh Turner

 My dad had picked the Conservatory to have their wedding the day they saw it for the first time. He knew he was going to marry my mom after that first night, she just didn’t know it until two years after they started dating. They got married before mom graduated. It only took my dad three and a half years to get his degree in Data Analytics. He was hired right away by a large corporation.

As soon as mom graduated, they started trying to have a baby. They thought they would have their four children right away, then mom could start on her masters before entering the workforce. They had given up on having any children after trying for five years. They went through a bunch of tests and nothing really showed up that would prevent them from having a baby. Mom decided to go back and get her masters then got pregnant that first semester back in school. She lost the baby after a couple of months. A year later she got pregnant again but lost that baby, too, after three months. She got pregnant after she graduated with her masters and they decided she wouldn’t go into the workforce and she was very careful but still she lost the baby. They decided that they wouldn’t try anymore and mom was hired at the university as an instructor and started consulting on the side. 

When my dad turned 30 my mom took a pregnancy test. That night they talked for hours about what they should do. They decided not to tell anyone until she was seven months pregnant. They thought both sides of the family would go through just as much grieving as they did and wanted to spare their feelings. Seven months later I was born two weeks premature. It was perfect, my mom said. She was able to get her final grades in for the spring term and had off the rest of the summer to care for me. 

They named me Tanzima because it means “A wonderful gift that has landed on earth from the heavens.” My parents are not Hindu. As I have already said, my dad reads all the time. Both of my parents were so happy to finally have a child and they really felt like I was a wonderful gift. I apparently was a very good baby that turned into a very gifted child to hear my parents talk about me. I was the only girl on both sides of the family so I was showered with attention and gifts from both sets of grandparents. My aunts loved to buy me dresses because they never got to shop in a section with so many options. Apparently, the boys’ clothes section in most stores are so small and not as cute as girls’ dresses.

Sad to say there were no more babies after them. I was an only child with wonderful parents and an extended family. Life sometimes seems strange when two people who loved each other to the moon and back who wanted a huge family could only have one child. Plus, you would think they would have given their only child a name that wouldn’t confuse the whole world that wasn’t Hindu. I just went by Tanzi most of the time though it still confused people.

 

Life is a lively process of becoming— Douglas MacArthur

Uncle Kenny said that he was responsible for mom and dad getting together. When my dad was a teenager, he visited Uncle Kenny while he was stationed here. My dad fell in love with the area and applied at all the universities in the area. He took the one that gave him the best scholarship. Grandpa said that the base was calling all the Lewis men to town. He would go so far as to tell people that it was named after us.

Dad’s parents moved out to Seattle after Grandpa retired from the fire department. Uncle Kenny was stationed out here at Lewis McChord and both he and his wife Louise fell in love with the area. When he got out of the air force they moved back and now he was a civilian working at the base. They lived in the beautiful little town of Dupont not far from Seattle. 

Mom’s parents lived about three and a half hours away. Mom says they lived the perfect distance away from us– close enough so that it was an easy drive but not close enough that they could drop in unannounced. We did a lot of cleaning before my grandma Thompson came to town. My mom loved my dad’s parents and they loved her. She didn’t care if they dropped in unannounced. They lived about twenty minutes away. They babysat me most of my life. Grandpa took me fishing and grandma taught me how to bake the best butter cookies ever. They would play any card game and most board games with me. Once a month grandma and sometimes grandpa would take me to an art museum. Grandma missed the art museums she went to in New York. She wanted me to have an appreciation for art. Grandpa wanted me to have an appreciation of fun. He was always cracking jokes, especially when grandma was getting too serious. When I was younger, he made going to museums fun because he would make fun of paintings. Grandma would get on grandpa when he was being ridiculous, though she would always laugh.

I pretty much did whatever I was told and when I was told to do it. I never went through the terrible twos or threes. I never talked back. You could say that our life was pretty perfect. Both of my parents had great jobs. They loved each other to the point of making me sick. I could not handle the love talk or the hugs and kisses in front of me. I was always telling them to get a room.

We were a family that exercised together, much to dad’s dismay. He thought he was doing enough work in the lavish garden that we had in the backyard, then mom got us all new bikes for Christmas when I was nine and we started biking all over the town. Then we started biking in the mountains when I was thirteen. Dad was the one who suggested biking in the mountains, which surprised my mom. He was liking this biking thing after all and he was feeling so much better, plus his clothes were getting baggy on him. He liked his new look. I didn’t notice that he was overweight. I think his suits must have hidden things. Mom liked that she felt more fit biking, too. I just liked biking and running.

In junior high I signed up for Cross Country and was pretty good at long distance running. Mom and dad started running too. We would run before work and school three days a week. My dad wanted to make sure that I was well rounded so I attended math and science camps in the summer. He just knew that I was going to be this math wizard because I could do fractions when I was five. I loved figuring out fractions. Especially in orange season, I loved dividing them up and figuring out what was a half, fourth, eighth and if I was lucky twelfths.

My mom wanted me to help her in the garden and she would tell people that I got my green thumb from her. I really didn’t understand the green thumb until I was a teenager. I thought, well all my fingers were green from working in the garden. What was she talking about? It was not just my thumbs that were green. One day dad and I were listening to “A Way with Words” on the radio and I heard them talking about the origin of green thumbs. I did like working alongside my parents in the garden or house. I truly just loved being with them.

        

Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken — D.H. Lawrence  

When I became a teenager, I was trying to decide what I was going to study in college. I had so many interests and my grades were straight A’s. My dad said I could write my ticket anywhere I wanted to go. One day my friend Emily and I were watching the movie Julie and Julia. I thought it was so cool that this woman took a cookbook and blogged about a recipe every day. Emily and I thought it would be fun to do just that, plus we both loved Meryl Streep and thought she did a really good job portraying Julia Child. We took one of my mom’s cookbooks and decided to try making everything in the cookbook though we didn’t blog about it. We put the finished dishes on our social media account. We did more than one recipe a day. Some days we would make a whole dinner for our family. It was really fun. Emily got tired of doing it after a couple of weeks. I didn’t, I started making dinner for my family every night. 

I already had a love of food from my dad. Going out to dinner with my dad had been our thing. Once a week we played roulette with restaurants we wanted to try. Dad made a roulette wheel that we put names on a posted note and stick them on the spaces then we would spin the wheel. When we landed on a space, we pulled the note off and added a new one. If we really liked the restaurant, we put the name back in the rotation after a couple of months. If we happen to want to try out a steak place, we invited mom.

Both of my parents loved that I started making dinner because I essentially made their lives easier. I started to experiment with what dad bought at the store. He had started to buy unique items to see what I would come up with. Mom would even try the food I made and say she liked it. I knew she loved her steak and potatoes so I didn’t experiment every day. We were all having fun with my culinary excursions until the beginning of my senior year when I started to tell them I thought I might go to culinary school instead of college. This was the first time I heard my dad yell at me. He had never raised his voice to me, ever. My mom didn’t intercede on my behalf, which really upset me. She was always telling me as long as I was happy it didn’t matter what I wanted to study. Dad said he wasn’t going to pay for my culinary education if that's what I was going into. The next day I got a job as a waitress in a really nice restaurant. I was going to pay for my schooling on my own if they wouldn’t.

I loved the idea of becoming a chef even more while working that year. I would be in the kitchen before my shift watching and helping if they would let me. I learned a lot from the sous-chef. She was so nice, letting me help. She told me what school to apply to and encouraged me along the way. Jess told me to get a four-year degree so I would know the business part as well as how to cook. She was told by her mentor to do just that. Jess thought you would become a better chef in the long run with a four-year degree. Jess also suggested that I work in different restaurants to get a feel of what kind of food I wanted to cook. There are so many levels between Haute meaning traditional, to nouvelle, to fusion or going the molecular gastronomy route.

What ethnic food did I want to cook? I had no idea so I quit that job and started working at a Chinese restaurant since I loved Chinese food. That lasted a few months because I wasn’t allowed to help in the kitchen. I still talked to Jess every time I moved to a new restaurant. I loved working in the Greek Restaurant because I loved the people and the food. I hated to leave them but I found a small restaurant willing to let me work in the kitchen. I loved the German food but I knew if I made this food a steady diet I might not fit into my jeans for long. I also learned I was not going to make much money working in the kitchen to cover the cost of culinary school. I went back to waiting tables and hanging out in the kitchens.

My parents were both disappointed that I did not change my mind by the time I graduated from high school. I graduated with a 4.0 and had a bunch of colleges sending me information that I didn’t request. I wasn’t sure if it was my parents that sent away for the information or the colleges just sent it. I didn’t care. Our idyllic life was no longer. My parents still refused to pay for my college education even though I told them I was going to go to a four-year program that would earn a Bachelor of Science degree. They wouldn’t listen to me. It was like a switch went off in their head if I tried to talk to them about it. I could see it in their eyes the far off look they gave me. It was like they were looking through me instead of at me. 

I had enough of the fighting and moved out one summer afternoon when they were at work. That went over like a lead balloon. They texted me repeatedly to come home so we could talk. I left a lengthy letter explaining why I moved out. I didn’t want to discuss this anymore. 

       

Life is a matter of really tough choices — Joe Biden          

This was the beginning of me living out of a suitcase. Whatever fit into my car was all I accumulated. If I couldn’t fit it in my car, I didn’t want it. Yes, I took the car my parents gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It was my present after all. As soon as I could, I took over the insurance for it. I decided I was going to be independent and I needed to pay for everything. My parents told me that I still was covered under their plan for my health insurance but I paid for the stitches that I needed to get. A health hazard when working in a kitchen with sharp knives. I knew health insurance was expensive and I was thankful that I was covered. Otherwise, I would have gone without insurance. 

I couch surfed for a couple of months until I found a few people who needed someone to rent a small bedroom. I was not a fan of sharing a bathroom, a first for me. I was a pretty neat person and two of the guys were always getting in trouble for leaving the seat up and leaving the bathroom a mess. When we females started throwing the trash in their beds, they got the hint that they’d better clean up their act. I was the youngest but they called me grandma because I was so careful how I spent my free time. I was always studying or working. I ran early in the morning, sometimes a couple of hours after they went to bed. 

 I made the decision to work the first year out of high school to earn my independence so college would be cheaper. It took a few months and grandpa and grandma Lewis had to intervene on my parents’ behalf for me to talk to them again. My grandparents and I went out to an art show to be followed up with dinner at our favorite restaurant. They had started going to the Greek restaurant that I had worked in and we continued to eat there after I left. The Greek family still considered me family and was happy that we still came to their restaurant. We usually had dessert on the house. They made the best baklava I have ever eaten. My grandma agreed with me that it was the best.

We walked into the restaurant and I couldn’t believe my eyes – there sat my parents. The look on their sheepish faces told me that they knew all about this. I felt like I had been betrayed by my grandparents. What was worse, I couldn't leave because my grandparents had picked me up.

My grandma took me aside when she saw me hesitate. “Tanzi, you are going to have to talk to them sometime. This has been going on too long. We are going to sit here like five adults that we are and we are going to hash this dispute out.” She made me look her in the eyes. “Do you understand me?” 

I knew she meant business. “Yes, ma’am.” I looked into her eyes to see if my next statement would connect. “Did you say the same thing to them because they were not listening to what I had to say? That is why I left.” 

“Oh, honey, they got a very long lecture from me when you left and last night when I stopped by their house.” She gave me a huge smile and then one of the best hugs I have had in months. 

Well, we sat down with my parents and things were a little strained at first. Then my grandpa Lewis started making really bad jokes and the mood changed. We had a very nice dinner, even mom enjoyed the food. I told her what to order and she really liked it. Even though it was chicken she thought maybe I could cook it for them some night when I moved back. I could tell that I hurt them again when I told them that I wasn’t moving home. This brought on a whole discussion about what it meant to be independent and I was prepared for it. When I told them I had met with our insurance guy about taking over the insurance for the car the other day, they were shocked. When my dad recovered from the shock he was impressed. He turned to my mom and said our little girl has grown up. They were happy to keep paying for the car, which I was happy about.

 

My life is a struggle — Voltaire

I was working my fingers to the bones taking any overtime when I could get, sometimes working two jobs and taking classes at a community college. I knew I wanted this four-year degree but it was going to be expensive. The only help I was getting was verbal advice from Jess and every once in a while, a chef would make a comment to me about what I should be doing. I took everything that was told to me and made a diagram to my end goal of getting a BS in a culinary school. I knew I was going to be in debt for a long time. I really didn’t care, though I had no idea what I was really getting into. Everyone was in debt, right? It was nothing new. I just knew I wanted a BS and I was going to do it on my own.

 I told my parents that I applied to the CIA and was accepted. I was excited to report that I got a scholarship.

My parents were in disbelief. They sat there with their mouths hanging open. “What about cooking? I thought you wanted to be a chef.”

I started laughing, “The CIA is the Culinary Institute of America. Did you really think I was going to be a spy?” 

It was a good laugh until they found out it was in California. They had hoped I would stay up here in Seattle. I assured them that Seattle was my home. I would be back because there were so many good restaurants around here that I knew I could get a job back here when I finished. I said my goodbyes to everyone and drove my Prius down to Napa. My scholarship did not cover all expenses and really quickly my credit card bills started to pile up. 

I didn’t know how it happened that I was getting into so much debt. I was working while going to school. I wasn’t into clothes. I didn’t eat out much: between work and school, food was pretty much covered. After a year I told the school I couldn’t afford it anymore and moved back home. I missed my family anyway. 

I was glad I did. My grandpa Lewis died about six months after I moved back home. He was the light to everyone. He was so smart and quick-witted. Even though some of his jokes were lame we still laughed. He was so full of wisdom that everyone sought him out when they had a problem. We were all like lemmings. We followed him around. He gave the best hugs and the twinkle in his eye would make you feel better in an instant. 

Dad, Grandma and Uncle Kenny were so heartbroken it was difficult to watch. I busied myself in the kitchen making food for everyone who stopped by. Grandpa had so many friends here and I don’t know how many flew in from New York. We almost needed a traffic cop for all the people stopping by. Since Grandpa moved here, he and Grandma still helped out at the fireman picnics and brought dinner to the stations. We had no idea how involved my grandparents had gotten since moving here. I think they have more friends than my parents.

Grandpa was buried with some Firefighter honors. He was a true hero saving so many lives. The evening before his funeral we read through some of the thank you letters that he received after a save. It really warmed my heart to read some of those letters. We picked out a few of the letters to read at the funeral. Grandpa thought it was funny that he wanted to be cremated and would make bad jokes about it all the time. It turned out to be really funny when the fire truck was our escort to the crematorium where he was going to be cremated. Uncle Kenny said that was our last joke that grandpa would play on us. We were laughing and crying at the same time. I assume for all different reasons. 

Grandma Lewis was so confused the whole time. She just went where we told her to go and sit when we told her to sit. Since I was the only girl child I stayed with Grandma and helped her dress and undress. For being an old lady, she still had a figure in a dress but seeing her almost naked was a real eye opener. I didn’t understand why she was so out of it until my mom took me aside and told me she heard you can only think about ten percent of your ability after a death. Grandma and grandpa had been married sixty years and had known each other their whole lives, having grown up on the same block in New York City. The death was a total shock so grandma was probably unable to think at all.

After the funeral I was spending more time at grandma’s than I was in my own apartment. Grandma finally talked me into moving into her spare bedroom. I told her I would pay her rent or I wouldn’t move in. She agreed though she made sure I knew she wasn’t happy about it. She knew my schedule was very tight between going to school and work so she made no demands on me. When we were together and I wasn’t studying we would play cards or she would show me a movie she thought I would like. We were ideal roommates. We were both clean, well-mannered and quiet. 

Grandma worried about me because I wasn’t dating. I told her I didn’t have time to date. Besides, all I met were restaurant people and I knew I would never marry any of the guys I met at work. They were either poor, worked all the time, drank too much or did drugs. None of these things made a man attractive to me. 

I didn’t mind going out on group dates with the guys from the restaurants. There was a clear understanding of where I drew the line on what I was willing to do or go when I was with them. I didn’t want to be around drugs which they understood and if they did them while we were together, they did a pretty good job of not letting me see it. 

Because of my reluctance to date men in my field, grandma would try to set me up with sons of firefighters she met. Grandma would pull me to this or that function if my schedule would allow. She wasn’t very smooth about it either, which was so embarrassing for me. I just wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide. Sometimes I would agree to go on a date, sometimes both the guy and I would feel the pressure to say yes. A few of the guys I went on more than one date, but what guy wants to go out on a date with a woman that needs her sleep and works forty hours a week and goes to school part time? Our hours of free time rarely worked out. I did find a running partner on one of the dates, but this was all we did together. We met in a group on Saturday mornings around seven and ran, then went to a cute little coffee shop and had breakfast afterwards. I have met some really nice people in this group.

 

Life is a bunch of ups and downs. It's how you handle it —Baker Mayfield     

My mom and dad lived a very healthy life running, biking and eating healthily. They only drank on weekends and it was the night they went to trivia. Dad had one drink and mom had two. Dad was the designated driver. When we went out to dinner, we each had a glass of wine that complimented the meal. I was getting pretty good at pairing wine with dinner now through my education in the classroom and the restaurants I worked in. 

Dad was having more trouble keeping up with my mom when they were exercising and one day dad just didn’t have the energy to run. Mom made him go to the doctor as soon as he could get in, which was a couple of weeks. Mom went with him, which I knew was a sign that she was scared. I begged her to text me as soon as they were finished with the doctor. When I didn’t hear from her, I knew something was up. When I got home from school their car was in the driveway. Instantly I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind that makes you afraid to move because you might throw up. I sat there in my car in the driveway, not moving. My mom finally came out of the house to get me. She helped me out of the car and I clung to her afraid to let go. 

“Tanzi, it is going to be alright. There is a good chance he will beat this.”  

That was all I remember from that night. Oh, I also remember the words Hodgkin's lymphoma. Two words I had never heard before and wished they were never a part of my vocabulary.

My head was spinning all night. After I held onto my dad for what seemed like hours listening to them talk about the cancer and the plans to get dad cancer free, I had to go to work. I was messing up left and right at work and they sent me home. I asked if I was fired and they laughed. Apparently, I was their best worker. I thanked them and went home and did my own research on Hodgkin's lymphoma. 

I had gotten into the Washington State University culinary program and was happy there. Doing this research on cancer I came across Bastyr University and saw that I could get a bachelor of science degree in nutrition and culinary arts. I liked the idea of the holistic approach I could take there. I applied that night. I was hoping I wrote coherently because it was after two a.m. and I am not great after midnight.

I didn’t know what I was doing, letting myself go deeper and deeper into debt. I just knew what my passion was and it was cooking and my family. My scare with my dad showed me I needed to be around my parents more. Okay, now I was spreading myself thin as could be with work, school and seeing my parents more. 

I finished out the semester at WSU and started at Bastyr the next semester. Now I would be learning about all the holistic approaches to eating. I was making my dad eat better. I didn’t have to change much but I was feeling better that I was making food he could take to work for lunch so no more eating out at whatever restaurant that fit into his schedule.

 

Since I moved out my dad would put money into my savings account, when he saw the amount drop below a thousand dollars. He thought he was sneaking money to me without me knowing. They set up my account when I was ten and our savings accounts were connected. If I wanted to, I could have put money into their account as well. I thought about putting the money back that he was transferring but instead I would transfer that amount into another savings account. This saving was increasing by leaps and bounds while I was in school. I couldn’t wait until I was out of school, then I could start paying off my debt and I would feel better about my situation. It was hard not to take this money and pay off some of my debt but I was bound and determined to do this on my own. Besides, I had plans for this money that I was saving. I wanted to take dad on a trip to Italy. I didn’t know this when I started to put it in a new savings account, I just knew I wanted to take him on a trip. 

During my dad’s chemo I made him food that would help with the sickness from the treatments. At least, I hoped it was helpful. He always had a brave face for us. One day dad caught a cold which scared mom and me. We were so afraid of any sickness. We were right to be scared because the cold went into his chest and he ended up in the hospital for a few days. This was when I decided we were going to Italy. While we sat with him in his hospital room, he talked about wishing he had gone to Italy. Mom told him she was sorry she kept him from traveling. She promised she would make it up to him when he got better. 

During this time, I felt so bad for my mom. She was so full of guilt. My grandma Thompson was sick on the other side of the state and with my dad going through chemo she didn’t feel like she could go home. I finally talked her into going home when dad was finished with his last chemo. Well, we were hoping it would be his last one. He still had many doctor appointments and scans to have, so we were keeping our fingers crossed.

I stayed with dad while she went home. Dad said he didn’t need a babysitter but mom said she wouldn’t go unless someone was here with him. He was happy to have me stay with him if she would finally go see her mom. Mom ended up staying a couple of weeks because grandma was worse off than her family let mom know. 

Grandma Thompson passed away with all of her family by her side. A couple of days before her death mom called to say grandma was bad. Dad and I both called work to tell them we wouldn’t be in. We drove through the night to be with mom and of course to see grandma. Grandma was in and out of consciousness.

On one occasion when grandma was coherent, she took her wedding ring off her finger and gave it to me. She whispered, “I want you to have all my jewelry but this one is the most important piece. When a man wants to replace this ring, you make sure he is worthy of it. Make sure he is as good as your grandfather. If he was half the man your dad is, you have a keeper.”  

I didn’t know what to say. I looked up at my dad and he was crying, which made me cry. I just laid my head on grandma’s chest and told her how much I loved her and I would make sure that I got a good man. We were all in grandma’s room telling stories about growing up and laughing when my mom turned to grandma and noticed she wasn’t breathing anymore. She had a smile on her face. When I say she passed away she really did just pass away. I had heard stories about people dying and some of them were terrifying. If I had a choice, I wanted to be surrounded by family telling funny stories and just pass away like she did. 

I drove mom’s car back the day after the funeral. Dad and mom stayed for another week. I got home and opened up my suitcase to find my grandma’s jewelry box in there. I hadn’t taken anything but her wedding ring which I still had on my finger. My mom must have put it in my suitcase. The jewelry box wasn’t big because, let’s face it, grandma was a farmer. You can’t wear a lot of jewelry around the farm, just like a cook can’t wear jewelry when working with knives and flames.

The pieces of jewelry she did have were nice pieces. I really liked her wedding ring plus what she called her cocktail ring. The cocktail ring had a huge black onyx with little diamonds all around it. She had a couple other rings and when I put them on my fingers, I thought they looked funny. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them. I just wasn’t used to seeing rings on my fingers. She had a beautiful tennis bracelet that Grandpa Thompson had given her on their sixtieth wedding anniversary last year. She wore it every day since she wasn’t working on the farm anymore. She loved showing it off.

 

Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though sometimes it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and grieves which we endure help us in our marching onward. —Henry Ford      

I sat there looking at my grandma Thompson’s jewelry thinking I probably could sell it all and pay a huge chunk if not all of my debt off. I flopped down on my bed to really think about it. This really was grandma’s jewelry, not mine. I couldn’t sell it. I took a deep breath. My family would disown me if I did something like that. My cousins had girlfriends that they would probably marry since they had been together forever. They probably wouldn’t have minded having grandma’s wedding ring to give to their girlfriends. I guess I was stuck with them. I didn’t know when I would wear them. I put everything back in the box and put the box in my underwear drawer. 

I kept getting bill after bill and I kept working hard. I had one semester left and I would graduate from college. It had only taken me ten years to graduate. I didn’t know what to do now. Dad was doing great. He only had to go to the doctor once a year now. Mom and dad have taken a couple of trips since he was feeling better. It drove me nuts when they came home. It was like they weren’t on the same trip. Their stories were so different. What hurt was they didn’t see that I would have given anything for a vacation or even just a long weekend away. I just kept plugging away at work and studying pretending everything was alright. 

Grandma Lewis had stopped setting me up, which thrilled me to death. I didn’t have time for anything right now. My parents decided to plan a graduation party for me which I thought was stupid but I didn’t want to cause any waves so I went along with it. 

Graduating was such a relief: no more paying money out of pocket to get an education unless I decided to go for a master’s or doctorate. Sometimes I thought about it because I was not sure where I wanted my life direction to go. Did I get a job at a hospital, work as a private chef, or keep working in a restaurant? I could throw in some more options but I got overwhelmed when I started looking for a job. I made the decision to keep working at the restaurant right now. I had a job on the line in a boutique restaurant that offered local food and craft beer. I made more as a server. This was frustrating for me. 

Something unexpected happened at my graduation party. I met a friend of my dad’s son. He had just moved back from the east coast. We hit it off right away. He liked my sense of humor, which I knew was an acquired taste. Grandma was happy to see that I was dating more than once every couple of months. Because of my hours at work, we had to get creative with his work schedule so we could go out on a date. At first, we were doing great, making time for each other, then Tim started to complain about my work schedule. I started to look around for a job that would fit a normal work schedule. Really a job that would fit his work schedule. 

When I found a day job and put in my two-week notice, my boss said he was going to offer me the sous chef job when Sandy, our sous chef got her head chef job at his new restaurant. It was hard for me to pass that up. I knew it would be only a few more months but I didn’t think Tim would be able to handle much more of me working there. It broke my heart that I had to give it up.

Grandma Lewis wasn’t happy when I told her about it. “Why are you changing your life for this guy? You worked hard to get where you are. Do you think he would change his job to suit you?” 

All I could tell her was I was trying to live a normal life whatever that was. My new job was not as great as my old job. The people were not as fun to work with. It really felt like a job not a passion. After a couple of months, I was looking for a new job. Tim was putting more demands on me, too, like expecting me to always cook for him instead of taking me out to eat. He didn’t understand when I complained about not getting any time off of work. 

I got a new job where I got to be on the line prepping food and serving part-time. It was a new hip restaurant that was just starting up. The people I met were very nice and were joking with me right from the start. They didn’t know if I was a real chef because I didn’t have any tattoos they could see. I said I was starting a new look for chefs. I was going back to the Julia Child era. I said this in my perfect Julia Child imitation. Only a couple of people knew who Julia Child was but I wasn’t going to hold it against them. I was looking forward to this new endeavor. I wasn’t always free when Tim wanted me to be but I told him to get used to it. I had this new opportunity and I was taking it. 

The job and Tim were starting to fail after six months. I didn’t know which one was going to end first. I didn’t know which failure was going to hurt me more. I had pretty much had it with Tim and his demands. He was taking way more than giving and I was tired of it. It pissed me off that he broke up with me before I had a chance to break it off with him. He went on a vacation without me and never told me he was going. I got a text from him telling me he left for Colorado on a ski trip. That was it. I couldn’t believe he went on a trip without me! When he came back, I was going to end it. He had the gall to send me a selfie of him and another woman on a mountain telling me it was over between us. 

I scared Grandma to death when I let out a blood curdling scream. She came running to my room ready to find an intruder or me bleeding to death. I have never heard my grandma cuss before when she opened my door to see me pacing back and forth. 

“Damn you Tanzi. What the hell is the matter with you?” 

I couldn’t say a word, I was fuming. I finally showed her the picture Tim sent. “Can you believe him? After all I did for him!” 

“Well, he can go to hell then.” 

I started to laugh, “Grandma I never heard you cuss before. Have you been hanging around my people too much?” 

“I guess I have. Your grandfather would have been proud of me cursing. He said I was too prim and proper for too much of the time.” 

I gave her a hug. “You are just the right amount of everything Grandma.”

 

I think our life is a journey, and we make mistakes, and it’s how we learn from those mistakes and rebound from those mistakes that sets us on the path that we’re meant to be on. — Jay Ellis    

The restaurant only lasted another couple of months after my break up with Tim. I went down with the ship. I couldn’t leave. The people were so nice but they were in a bad location, but most of all they were ill equipped to run a restaurant. I tried to help and I thought the pride they had prevented them from taking help or suggestions from anyone. 

The failure of the restaurant happened at the same time Dad was coming up on his five-year check on being cancer free. I was turning thirty in a month. I really had no money in my savings account but I did in the savings account that I set up with his money he had given me, I had enough to give my dad and me a wonderful trip. I talked to my mom about it and she really didn’t want to go. Besides, she had a big project she was finishing up and couldn’t leave. I thought she was just saying this so I would go with my dad alone. She thought it would be a wonderful gift to give dad. Just the two of us going somewhere.

I talked to grandma about it, too. I said when I came back. I would look for a job and would she mind if I didn’t pay her rent this month and maybe next month. She was fine if I didn’t pay any more rent at all. I assured her while I was gone, I was going to decide how to use my degree the best I could and find a real job that I could see a future in. She was so happy that I was planning a trip with dad. I told her she could come along if she wanted. No, she wanted dad and me to have a special trip. 

Dad came home with great news. No more cancer! I made a special dinner for all of us. I even invited Uncle Kenny and Aunt Louise. Grandma Lewis was my date for the evening. I wished all my dates were as understanding as her. 

During the dessert of tiramisu, I made a toast. “To Dad, may he never have cancer again. For that matter may none of us ever have to say cancer again.” 

Everyone cheered to that toast. 

“Dad, I have a gift for you to celebrate.” I handed him an envelope. 

“What’s this?” He was looking around at everyone. 

“Do you know all that money you thought you were sneaking into my account? Well, I put it in another account then into CDs. I have a great teacher.” I patted his hand. “We are using this to take a trip to Italy…just you and me with a lot of Italian food and wine for two weeks.” 

“No, you should have used that money for school.” 

“You told me that you weren’t paying for my schooling.” 

“Well, I was wrong. You should take this money and pay off your debt.” 

“Too late, you already have two weeks off. Mom and I talked to your boss. You have a few days to tighten up loose ends then it is me and you flying off to beautiful Italy.” 

Dad looked around the room at everyone smiling so big and he shook his head and said, “Buon viaggio everyone.” Then he raised his glass in a toast. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you as a daughter.” 

I got out of my chair and went over to give him a huge hug and a kiss.

 

Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it. — Sai Baba      

This trip was to be a special vacation with my dad. A celebration of life though it turned out way more than that. In many ways it was the beginning of my story. A whole new world opened to me the minute we stepped off the plane. 

I rented a car with a manual transmission. I had learned how to use a stick when I learned how to drive, then my parents bought me a Prius that was automatic. It was a little shaky pulling out of the parking lot but I never stalled. Dad wanted me to drive because he was afraid he would drive too slow for the Italians. He knew they drove fast. He had done his research before leaving Seattle, plus he read most of the flight.

We were both tired and the drive to Lake Como was a little difficult. It had taken us the better part of a day of travel to get to this point. We tried all the tricks we knew to have a successful flight. We ate very healthy the week before and kept hydrated. On the plane we drank a lot of water, too. I was glad we traveled first class so we were not climbing over people to go to the bathroom. We took a sleeping aid to make sure we slept. Still, we both were tired. I think we should have gone for a run before we got in the car. Instead, we went for a run when we got to our hotel. 

“Okay, Dad I will meet you downstairs when you are ready. I am going to stretch out front until you get there. It is such a beautiful day I don’t want to miss any of it.” 

“I will race you downstairs because I was thinking the same thing coming up in the elevator.” 

I walked into my room and I couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. Dad insisted that I get the room with a view of the lake. I have a little balcony that we could sit and have a coffee on in the morning. I walked around the room and touched everything. The room was filled with antique furniture. The wood was honey brown and with the walls a dusty rose, it is hard not to wish I could just stay in the room. The silk comforter was just a beautiful maroon with pearl color roses throughout. I ran my hand across the comforter and thought what it was going to feel like to lie down on it. I knew tonight would probably be an early night, then we would get on schedule. I was looking forward to going to sleep tonight. 

I beat dad downstairs by seconds. I ran down the stairs and he took the elevator. I told him he cheated and he reminded me this whole trip would be a cheating experience. He was only running because I was making him or he would be lying down on his beautiful bed. He told me I would have to check out his room. He might not see the lake, nevertheless the view was breathtaking. 

We took a lovely run down by the lake. Both of us kept pointing out things and it was hard to run and sightsee at the same time. We had to go off the trail once when dad saw a gelateria. We sat there looking at the mountains and the water, eating two dips of gelato. My new favorite flavor is amarena. I had never had anything like it. I loved sour cherries and chocolate together. The woman serving asked if I wanted an amarena with the chocolate swirled through it. Oh, I was in heaven. It would be hard to try a different flavor. Dad loved it, too. I thought his pistachio was good though two dips would have been too much for me. He didn’t have any trouble getting them down. We both couldn’t wait until the next time we got to have gelato. Dad suggested my flavor would be good in coffee. My dad and I made perfect travel partners. We loved trying what the other ordered. 

When we finished the run, we went back to the hotel to shower and dress for the day. We both felt better after the run. I thought the gelato helped, though now we were off to find a restaurant for lunch. Dad said he planned to eat his way through Italy and worry about it later. He would run each morning with me but I was to plan on eating a lot while we were here. 

I set up a cooking class for tourists in Bologna as a surprise for him. I wouldn’t mind taking a class in making Italian food. I was just excited about going to Bologna for the food. We were stopping in Modena and Parma on the way down there next week. I knew dad has wanted to come to Lake Como since he read a couple of books that take place here. I was the one that wanted to go to the Emilia Romana region. I had to be careful not to wish my time away while here. I really needed to be in the moment. 

We had asked the desk manager at the hotel where to go for lunch. He was more than happy to tell me about this little hole in the wall restaurant. He thought we would like it. We almost missed it because we were gawking at everything in sight. It was so beautiful here. I was thinking I could move here in a minute. I thought my dad felt the same way. We walked into the restaurant and the whole place was wood paneling and the table and chairs matched the paneling. I wouldn’t have decorated this restaurant like this but it must work for them. It has been a restaurant for over a hundred years.

We were seated where we couldn’t even see out the one window. I was a little nervous because neither of us really spoke Italian. Dad had two years of it in college, which was a long time ago. You could smell the grease from the kitchen so I thought we were going to have something fried. Dad asked for the specialty of the house and something else for her…pointing to me. I gave dad’s toe a kick and thought the next time I was ordering for him. 

When the waitress left, I said, “You have no idea what we will get. We could end up with tripe. I knew I was supposed to be adventurous, nevertheless the lining of a cow’s stomach didn’t sound like something I wanted to be my first dish in Italy.” 

“Do you really think we will get tripe?” 

“I know they eat it here.” 

“Should I call her back?” Now, he looked a little worried. 

“No, but if we get tripe, you are eating most of it.” 

“I will give it a try. I think your mom would because it comes from the cow. What do you think?” 

“I don’t think you know mom at all. She would never eat it.” I just shook my head at him. 

Sweetheart, I have never seen you with jewelry on. Is that all from your grandma Thompson?” 

“I never get to wear rings so I decided that I would wear them all,” smiling so brightly. It made me feel closer to her and a little more ladylike. She would always talk about being more ladylike. I needed to wear more dresses and jewelry, she would say. 

I was fingering my locket when I realized that I didn’t show him what I did with it. Opening it up, “Dad, mom is with us on this trip.” I had taken one of my favorite pictures of them and put mom on one side and dad on the other. 

“Oh, honey, that is so sweet. I love that picture. Mom looks so beautiful. I think that was taken before I got cancer. My hair in that picture is my real hair.” 

“Dad, you still have hair. Yes, it might be curlier than it used to be and a lot grayer. You should be happy you still have hair. Several of my friends' dads have lost their hair, and they didn’t have cancer.” 

The woman brought us a little plate of fried fish that she called Shad. We will have to look that one up. She spelled it for my dad. I knew he would remember it. It was a little salty. Even so it was delicious on the bread. I thought they made their bread. It was so fresh and tasty.

When the woman set a plate of creamy polenta with another kind of lake fish in front of my dad, he had the biggest smile. We were able to figure out that dad had perch on the polenta. I got a pork cutlet pounded out perfectly with roasted potatoes. We had made the deal to switch after we had eaten half and both of us were a little reluctant. We both were pleasantly surprised that we enjoyed the other dish as well, even though it wasn’t as hot. Next time we agreed we would just split the dish right away. Both of us were happy that we asked where to eat. We would have never seen this place. We were lucky to stumble onto it.. I knew we wouldn’t have stepped foot in it if the clerk hadn’t suggested it. 

When we stepped out of the restaurant, we were hit by a cold breeze coming off the lake. No wonder why they only had one window and a small door. I was sure when it was winter there were fewer cracks for the wind to rush through. The winter pictures I had seen in the hotel and the restaurant made me think I would love this place just as much in the winter. I might just have to come back here to ski in the alps. I knew my credit card company would like that idea. A person could dream, couldn’t they? 

We were reluctant to get in the car and drive somewhere so we just walked around the town and enjoyed the sights. We stepped foot into a few galleries, a couple of shops and we just had to stop in a gelateria for an afternoon snack. Okay I found my new favorite flavor: fruit of the woods. Dad got lemon. We agreed we wouldn’t get the same flavor twice if we could help it. We were in heaven. Everything we saw, we couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. We were in overload mode now because we just wanted to sit and enjoy the view.

After seeing a couple of churches and one cathedral dad said he would have stayed a Catholic if he had been able to go to church here. We still have a couple of Basilicas to walk through and he was ready to go back to church. There were times like these when I wished I was raised in a church. I had nothing to connect to like Grandma Lewis and Grandma Thompson. They went to church every Sunday. Maybe when I went back home, I would go to church with Grandma Lewis. She might be surprised when I accept her offer to go. She had asked me every week since I moved in with her over five years ago. I couldn’t believe it had been that long. Maybe I should look for a place of my own. I knew I would never beat the price and I had someone who would cook for me. I loved cooking but I did enjoy a day off sometimes. 

It was dinner time and dad wanted to try pizza. I thought I could have done a better job though the simplicity of the pizza made it very enjoyable. I did like more herbs in my sauce. That said, the dough was what makes the pizza and the toppings did not subtract from the star of the dish, the crust. 

It was an early night for the two of us. Before we went to bed, we checked out each other’s room. I could barely tell he had a view because it was so dark on his side of the hotel. My room you could still see the lake. His furniture was darker than mine and they didn't match. Mine all matched, which I thought gave the room a more put together look. His bed looked just as nice as mine though his comforter was lemon yellow with swirls of blue and green. It looked to me like waves crashing into the sun. 

On my beautiful dresser I placed all six rings I brought with me and took off my necklace. I had to stretch my fingers out after taking them off. My hands were not used to wearing all those rings. It was kind of cool to be able to wear them. I didn’t care if one of them was a wedding ring. I was going to switch them around each day and see if I liked one ring better on a certain finger. I stood there looking at grandma’s wedding ring. I picked it up and played with it, thinking about my life. There wasn’t much to think about. I was too busy to date much in high school. I had a group of friends I did things with on weekends. It was a mixture of guys and gals. 

We only had one couple, who ended up together, out of the whole group. They got married in college and had everyone over a few times a year. They have me cook for the group once a year. It was fun but I was the only one who was still single this year. I couldn’t believe I was thirty, no job, no partner and a big debt. I set down the ring. I vowed that I would be married by forty and have a child. I hoped I could have children. I hoped my mom hadn’t passed down her problem. I slid into my bed and thought how nice it was to have satin sheets. 

I woke up to my alarm going off on my phone. I lied there thinking, do I really want to get up to run? I threw back the cover and slid off the bed. Yes, I wanted to run because I wanted to eat anything and everything. I hoped we could top yesterday’s food or at least have food just as good. Dad was waiting for me outside. 

“You wanted to have lots of food, too?” 

I laughed, “You are so right. My bed was so comfortable. Was yours?” 

“Oh, yes, I am going to have to look at the mattress because your mom and I could use a new one and I think it will be that bed. By the way, I don’t think the hotel people like my running gear. You should have seen the look I got.” 

“Oh, I meant to say something to you yesterday when you were coming out of the elevator. I saw the owner look at you and shake her head. I am not sure if it is that we are runners or that we wear skimpy clothes. I didn’t see any runners yesterday but they have such nice pathways around here.” I looked around, “It looks like we will be running in Seattle today.” This was very disappointing. I thought Italy would be sunnier than Seattle. There would be no sightseeing while running today, even though running through the streets still gives me chills that I was actually running in ITALY! 

After the run we thought it would be best if we showered and dressed before we went down to breakfast. By the time I got to breakfast dad was already on his second cup of cappuccino. He was sitting there with a plate filled with half eaten pastries and fruit. When I sat down, he was all smiles. 

“Please don’t tell your mom how I have eaten while we are here, please.” He was actually begging me. 

“Dad I won’t as long as you continue to run with me and when you get back you don’t cheat for a month.” 

“Okay, you drive a hard bargain,” frowning. 

“I mean no fatty foods or alcohol. You have to eat more spinach, raspberries and all the antioxidant foods I have taped to your refrigerator.” 

“If I eat some of that food while here, can I have a glass of red wine on Fridays?” He smiled that smile I couldn’t resist. 

“Okay, though I don’t want you counting gelato as one of those foods unless it is low in sugar and fat. I think the fruit of the woods sorbet I had yesterday would count.” I got the biggest smile from him. 

“I can handle that.” 

“You know if you keep eating like this you are going to get sick.” 

“Oh, but it is so wonderful going down.” 

I leaned in, “Dad! Seriously, what should I waste my calories on?” 

“That is easy…everything! These croissants are just as good as yours.” My dad knew the right things to say. I remember going through croissant week, month, year in school. It started out just wanting to learn how to make puff pastries then I added on more pastries until I had a minor in pastries. Working in the Greek restaurants helped when it came to learning how to make baklava. I learned how to stretch that dough or the owner’s mother would smack my hand with a wooden spoon. When I told my grandparents about this, Grandpa Lewis told me that the nuns at his school used to hit him with a ruler.

After gorging ourselves with pastries, yogurt, fruits and topping them off with cappuccinos we decided to drive up into the mountains hoping to get out of the fog. I have to admit I was driving too slow for the locals. I had high beams flashed at me too many times to count. I saw a sign for a parking lot and took it. I told dad I have had enough of driving in the fog and that if he wanted to take over, I would be more than happy to hand over the keys. He wanted nothing to do with driving in this soup. 

Dad had read you always wanted to go to the center of the town. He said there were two reasons for this, the first reason is most of the action was in the center. The other was the tourist information was usually located there so you knew what to see in the town. We saw signs for the center and started walking. We could feel we were walking up a steep hill that had those cobble stones but that was all we could see. We were walking up a road that we thought was just a walkway when all of a sudden, a motorcycle came roaring around the corner. Dad and I jumped to the opposite side of the road and put our backs up against the walls. I hated to admit it but I screamed. As soon as the motorcycle passed us dad came running over to me and locked arms. 

“I could hardly see you on the other side of the road. Let’s keep together until we get in the middle of town.” 

I was comfortable with that. The higher we went the better we could see. There was more foot traffic and cars as we got closer to the center. We got to this bridge that went over rushing water – not that you could see the water, you just heard it. I could see this as an eerie scene in a murder mystery movie from long ago. I realized I had been watching too many movies with Grandma Lewis at this point. I expected to see a bunch of people in trench coats and Fedora hats whispering to each other. The sound of the rushing water echoed through the mountain passes and added to my overactive imagination. 

When we got to the top, we were still in fog, but you could see for probably a mile into the mountains. Looking out over the river that we couldn’t see, the fog was so dense along its path through the mountains. It looked like a river of floating white clouds. It was a very cool sight. I tried taking pictures of it, but they didn’t come out as cool as it looked.

We milled around town looking in the shops for a gift for mom and grandma. We stopped in a jewelry shop and bought mom, grandma and my two aunts silver earrings. Apparently, Italy has a lot of silver. The earrings were so beautiful and they weren’t that expensive. I contemplated buying myself a pair. I kept coming back to these blue sapphire studs. They were very simple and I could wear them to work. I told myself I didn’t need to spend any money on me. I could have spent longer in this store. There were so many things to look at and they were all gorgeous. Dad on the other hand got tired of exploring after he found what he was looking for. 

“Honey, it’s after one. Don’t you think it’s time to go have lunch? All this shopping has made me hungry.” 

“Let’s go to that little bistro we saw by the river. We can sit outside and look up at the mountains.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

We were happy to sit outside even though you were sitting on top of each other. Seriously, the waitress had to turn sideways to get through the tables to wait on people. The tables were so small, really only two people could fit at them. I could see that this place would be more suitable for having drinks and looking at the mountains with a few friends. 

We were seated next to two handsome men in the corner of the patio area. It was hard not to stare at them when we were being seated. If we were back in Seattle, I would have enjoyed being seated this close to a couple of really good-looking men. I would have rather it not be with my dad seated across from me but rather one of my girlfriends. Though with my luck they would be gay and on a romantic date. We would have a great time chatting then go our separate ways. Since we were in Italy, I knew we would be going our separate ways after lunch. 

Dad was driving me nuts with his head bobbing towards the guys trying to get me to notice them. First of all, like I didn’t notice them. I could reach out and touch one of them without stretching and probably touch the other guy’s knee. Second, I could barely handle my dad being my wingman. Third, we were in Italy. What were the chances we would see them again? Finally, I got my dad to stop trying to get me to notice them by acknowledging them. 

“This is a beautiful restaurant. Have you eaten here before? We could use some help on what to order here.” 

The one man that I was facing had a sweet smile and responded as sweetly, “No, this is our first time. The fog was too heavy to continue on so we stopped here hoping by the time we finished I wouldn’t mind driving in the fog that was left.”  

This appeased my dad and he was happy to just look at the menu for the time being. I reached out to touch my dad’s hand to get his attention. 

“Are you in any hurry to get out of this town?” 

“No, why?”  He looked at me with so much concern. I loved the way my dad could be so concerned about me with just a few words said. 

“Oh, I just wanted to have risotto. It takes time to make a proper risotto. You can’t make it ahead of time or it is mush and gloopy. 

“That sounds good but I see they have grilled pork chops and that is what I am having.” 

“Let’s get the house white if that is okay with you.” 

“Hey, having any wine is okay with me. Such a treat to have wine with lunch.” 

I heard the guy next to me make a grunting noise. I wanted to say something but I left it alone. I was not happy that he was finding humor in a simple statement my dad made. The waitress took our order and theirs at the same time. The man facing me ordered the risotto and smiled at me. They each ordered a glass of wine while dad and I ordered a half a liter of the house white. 

The waitress brought us our wine and a plate of bread. I was a little surprised that nothing came with the bread. The disappointment started to seep into my thoughts when I tasted the bread. It was definitely not made in house or even today’s bread. Dad and I agreed that it was not worth the calories after our first bite. While we were waiting for our food dad slipped a box over to me. 

“What’s this?” 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at these,” He pushed the box closer to me. 

I picked up the box and hoped they were the ones I truly wanted. Yes, they were the blue sapphire earrings. I jumped out of my chair and gave my dad a hug and a kiss. “You are too good to me.” 

I heard a noise coming from the guy sitting next to me. They had been talking about this renovation they were doing but when I hugged dad the conversation stopped and he tsked. I wanted to ask him what his problem was but reframed myself again. Sitting this close it was hard not to have a conversation with the people sitting right next to you. I had waited tables where people were at the same table and they were farther apart than the four of us. 

We were planning our next destination when the food arrived. I could tell when she set down my dish, I was not going to be happy. First, our food should have taken longer to make and second it looked undercooked. I could tell the color of the rice was not right. I was glad it was a mushroom risotto so I knew the mushrooms would be cooked enough. 

“Honey, what is wrong?” 

“This doesn’t look cooked enough.” 

“Try it, it might be deceiving you.” 

I took a bite and I felt the chalkiness in my molars as I chewed. “This is awful.” I looked over to the guy who ordered risotto but he got osso buco. His looked like overcooked or yesterday’s risotto. I wasn’t going to say anything to him though it wasn’t long and he was saying something to me. 

“How is your risotto?” 

“I am afraid it isn’t very good. I am fighting the urge to send it back. How is yours?” 

“Well, it isn’t the best I have ever had. Well, actually it tastes blah. I don’t know if I am being too picky.” 

His friend piped up, “He is the pickiest person when it comes to food.” 

My dad had to add his two cents worth in on this conversation, “Well, my daughter is a chef and she knows food. So, I trust her opinion.” 

The guy next to me said, “She’s your daughter? I thought she was your wife.” Now, I knew why all the noise was coming out of him. He was judging us. What a jerk! 

The guy I was facing started the introductions, “Hi, I am Phillip and this is my friend Kyle. Are you two traveling around Italy or camped out around here?” 

“Nice to meet you. This is my daughter Tanzi and I am Edward. We are up here for a week traveling around Lake Como then we are heading south to Bologna. After my readings I thought, I might want to pop over to Florence too. My daughter gave me this present after my five-year cancer free checkup.” 

“Okay dad, enough. I am sure these gentlemen don’t want our history as well.”