< Back Ham, Cheese, and Leek Scones Prep Time: 30 minutes Cook Time: 25 to 30 minutes Serves: 12 large scones Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 2 leeks 2 Tbsp. (25g) unsalted butter 2 Tbsp. olive oil 1 tsp. flaky sea salt (such as Maldon) A good grind of black pepper ½ cup (200g) Parmesan, grated 3¼ cups (450g) all-purpose flour, plus more for the work surface 2 Tbsp. baking powder 7 Tbsp. (100g) cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes 2 cups (500g) plain yogurt 7 oz. (200g) of your favorite ham (Parma, Serrano, Bayonne, or country), cut into bite-size pieces 1 tsp. kosher salt 1 egg, lightly beaten with a little milk or water, for the egg wash Preparation Step 1 Trim the roots and the tough green stalks and outer layer from the leeks. Cut the leeks in half lengthwise and run under cool water to rinse, peeling back the layers to get inside where the grit is lodged. Slice the leeks crosswise into 1⁄4-inch slices and drop into a bowl of cold water for about 10 minutes. All the dirt will fall to the bottom. Scoop the leeks out (rather than pouring them out with the water) and place in a colander to drain. Pat dry. Step 2 In a heavy-bottomed frying pan over medium-low heat, heat the 2 tablespoons of butter and the oil until the butter starts to foam. Add the leeks, flaky sea salt, and black pepper and sauté for about 10 to 15 minutes until soft but without color. When they are cooked, tip them into a bowl and chill in the fridge for about 20 minutes (this can be done the day before). Step 3 Line a baking sheet (or other container that can fit into your fridge) with parchment paper. Step 4 In a medium bowl, stir together the Parmesan, flour, and baking powder. Cut in the butter with a pastry cutter or the back of a fork (or use a mixer) until crumbly. Add the yogurt, ham, kosher salt, and cooled leeks. Mix quickly to combine and then pat into a cube and place on a lightly floured surface. Pat the dough into a thick log and cut out triangles from the log—you will have about 12. Place the scones on the lined baking sheet (or other container) and put in the fridge to chill until set, about 1 hour. Step 5 Preheat the oven to 355°F (320°F convection). Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper, place the chilled scones on it, and brush the scones with the egg wash. Step 6 Bake for 25 to 30 minutes until golden. Serve right away. Do ahead: You can also make the scones and freeze them, then bake as and when you need them. They keep well for a month in the freezer. Previous Next

< Back Almond Tea Bread (w/ poppy seed) Prep Time: 15 minutes Cook Time: one hour Serves: 2 loafs Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 2 1/4 cup sugar 3 eggs 1 1/8 cup oil 3 cups flour 1 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 1/2 baking powder 1 1/2 cup milk 2 Tablespoons canned poppy seed 1 1/2 teaspoon each vanilla, almond extract and butter flavoring Glaze: 3/4 cup sugar 1/4 cup orange juice 1/2 teaspoon each vanilla, almond extract and butter flavoring Preparation Grease and flour 2 large loaf pans. Cream together first three ingredients. Add 1 1/2 cup milk alternating with flour mixture to the creamed mixture. Add 2 Tablespoons canned poppy seed, 1 1/2 teaspoon each vanilla, almond extract and butter flavoring. Beat 2 minutes. Divide between the two pans. Bake at 350 for 1 hour. In a small saucepan combine the glaze ingredients. Boil for 1 minute. Glaze bread with this mixture while still warm. We usually start cooking the sauce when the bread comes out of the oven then after the minute of boiling we pour it over the bread. You can get canned poppy seeds in the pie filling section. It will change the flavor and dynamics of the bread. Previous Next

< Back Garlic-Glazed Chicken Pizza Prep Time: 30 minutes Cook Time: 10 to 12 minutes Serves: Serves 4 to 6 as a main course, or 8 to 10 as a starter Level: easy About the Recipe This pizza is a family favorite and anyone who likes garlic will go crazy for it. I got this recipe from my brother who was my hero...not just because he gave me this recipe. It is wonderful hot or cold though I might be the only person who likes cold pizza :-) Ingredients ¼ cup sesame seeds 1 head garlic, peeled, and coarsely chopped * 2 teas crushed dried red chili peppers ½ cup soy sauce 1-½ cups rice wine vinegar * ¾ cup vegetable oil ¼ cup chopped green onions 5 Tabls honey 5 boned and skinned chicken breast halves, cut into bit sized pieces 2 cups (about 8 oz) grated Gruyere cheese 1 cup (about 4 oz) shredded mozzarella cheese Your favorite pizza dough Preparation Put the sesame seeds in a small skillet over medium heat. Toast the seeds, stirring or shaking the pan, until golden, about 4 minutes. Empty onto a plate to cool. Reserve. Combine the garlic, crushed red pepper, soy sauce, honey, and vinegar in a bowl, reserve. Heat ¼ cup of the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat and sauté chicken until opaque on all sides, about 3 minutes. Remove with slotted spoon and reserve. Pour the garlic mixture into the skillet and cook over med-high–heat, stirring frequently, until the sauce is reduced to a consistency of syrup, about 15 minutes. Return the chicken to the pan and cook, stirring constantly, until the pieces are lightly glazed, about 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and reserve. Brush your dough with vegetable oil, then top with a layer of each of the cheeses and the glazed chicken, leaving a ½-inch border around the edges. Sprinkle with the green onions. Pour a little of the liquid on the pizza. Bake in Preheated oven (500) for 10 to 12 minutes. Sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds, slice and serve immediately. *You can substitute half the amount balsamic or red wine vinegar (3/4 cup) and the other half water (3/4 cup) plus provolone for the gruyere *I have used as little as ½ head but no less. You need that garlic to make the dish Previous Next

< Back Lemon Artichoke Risotto Prep Time: 40 minutes Cook Time: about 30 minutes Serves: 6 Level: easy About the Recipe Lemon Artichoke risotto goes well with seafood. Pictured here is grilled Tuna steaks but grill shrimp is delicious too. It is easy to make it just takes a bit of time and stirring to make it wonderful. Ingredients 8 cups canned low-salt chicken or veggie stock olive oil about 3 to 4 tablespoons 2 cups finely chopped onions, finely chopped 2 garlic cloves, minced 1 1/2 cups Arborio rice 2/3 cup dry white wine one lemon, zested and juiced one can artichokes, quartered then third 2/3 cup grated Romano Salt and freshly ground black pepper, optional Preparation In a heavy large saucepan add olive oil over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté until tender, about 8 minutes. (In the picture I didn’t have shallots which is my preferred onion in making risotto.) Stir in the rice and let it toast for a few minutes. Push the rice out the edge making a two-inch hole add the garlic, sauté for a minute. Add the wine; cook until the liquid is absorbed, stirring continuously, about 2 minutes. Add a couple of ladles of hot stock; simmer over medium-low heat until the liquid is absorbed, stirring often, about 3 minutes. Continue to cook until the rice is just tender and the mixture is creamy, adding more stock by the ladle full and stirring often, about 28 minutes (the rice will absorb 6 to 8 cups of stock plus you don’t want to overcook the rice. You want it al’ dente but not chalky.) Mix in the Romano cheese, artichoke, lemon zest and juice. Season with salt and pepper, to taste. Previous Next

< Back Marshmallow Dessert Kimberly Caristi Oct 1, 2025 This dessert brings back so many memories. In 1995 we lived in Slovenia and we brought our five-year-old daughter and ten-year-old son. Our son went to an International school so he was gone from seven until one in the afternoon. That left me with a rambunctious little girl who didn’t care if we had a clean house or what we were having for dinner. She wasn’t a big fan of grocery shopping either but with a bribe she would be a good girl meaning she wouldn’t whine, complain or wander off. Her treat would be a doughnut or a couple of times I bought her one of these. The first time I bought one I thought I would be getting some of it. To my surprise and disappointment she ate the whole thing except a tiny bit she gave me when I asked if I could try it. When we got home from Slovenia we were asked if we would take part in a fundraising event. We donated a Slovene dinner and I made this as the dessert. I had figured out how to make it. I made a better base but the rest of it was pretty dead on. This stay was our fifth time to Slovenia and it was another five month stay. I wanted to buy this dessert for friends who visited us because I wanted to see if the dessert tasted like they did thirty years ago. We bought four and they protested that it was too much. Let me tell you they were all gone in minutes. They are so easy to eat and if you like fluffy marshmallows and chocolate you will love it. The ones I made I used a seven-minute frosting as the filling. I saw little difference. In fact, I was looking at some of the recipes and some have a cream filling. I am sure that it is a dessert that has a multitude of recipes like our chili here in the U.S. or spaghetti sauce here or in Italy. Previous Next

The site is about Kimberly Caristi's books, travel, recipes and photography. Welcome to my heart. Let me open the door. “Cooking is a caring and nurturing act. It’s the kind of the ultimate gift for someone to cook for them.” -Curtis Stone “Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.” – Ibn Battuta “So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” – Paulo Coelho Kimberly's Bio

Jolene is a smart, well read young woman whose parents are well to do and have an idea how a young woman should behave. Jolene has other ideas. When Jolene picks a school a few hours away her world changes much to her parents dismay. Jolene falls in love with Hank, Wyoming, and feels alive. When Jolene chooses Hank and Wyoming her parents disown her. Through books Jolene, heals, grows, discovers her talent and reunites with her family. Written by Kimberly Caristi Jolene has a real love of horses and learning. Jolene is brought up in a well to do family that thinks women should only do lady-like things and marry within their class. She leaves home to attend college in Wyoming much to her parents' dismay. There she finds herself, her husband and her true calling through read books. My Birthday: Dear Diary, today was a very good day. I turned eight. Dolly gave me you and I love you very much. I am going to write in you every day. My brothers gave me games. My brothers don’t play with me like Dolly does. I don’t see Porter or Joshua very much anyway. They are too busy for me. I wish I had someone my age to play with then I would have someone to play the games with. I think I am going to solve mysteries like Nancy Drew. I love her. She is so smart. My family thinks I am so smart so I should be a good detective. Sincerely, Jolene PS. At school during lunch Cathy gave me some of her chocolate bar. I LOVE CHOCOLATE! PPS. Again, I didn’t get to pick the restaurant I wanted to go to. My dad said you would never see him in a fast-food restaurant. I don’t care; I still love their fries. My mother wouldn’t let me get fries so I got a baked potato with lots of butter. At least, she understood I didn’t want to eat steak because of my many loose teeth. My mouth hurts so I have not been eating very good. I wonder how long I can say this before my mother stops giving me popsicles. The waiter brought me a slice of chocolate cake with a candle in it after dinner. I was so excited to see it but it had a different taste. Father told me it had coffee flavor in it as he was finishing it. Someday I will get a whole birthday cake like Cathy does. ----------------------------------------------------------- My sister Dolly gave me my first diary. It was a little pink diary with a sweet bouquet of white and yellow daisies tied together with a green bow. The diary had a little gold clasp and a little gold key. As an eight-year-old, my imagination was all I had. I did think I would be the next Nancy Drew. I had loved her books since I was six and I would sneak around our house and spy on my family. I didn’t start taking notes until Dolly gave me my diary. When I look back I am sure the diary was the start of my writing career. Yes, I was naive to think if I locked it before I set my diary down it would be safe. I actually called it my book of knowledge. At dinnertime I would relay my details of the day to everyone. My parents thought it was cute and would give me five minutes just before dinner to tell my tales. My brothers were not keen on my telling all about their conversations on the phone with their friends. Less desirable was when I talked about their conversations with their girlfriends. Since I was trying to sound more interesting, I might have embellished what I heard. That all started my lifework as a storyteller. A month later: Dear Diary, I heard Porter talk about making out with his girlfriend. I had to ask at dinner time what making out meant. Porter was not happy with me. Father and Mother were not happy with Porter. Porter’s girlfriend was not to our standards. I asked what our standards were and I got in trouble. Diary, no one was happy with me. Dolly came into my room after dinner and said there were things that we were not to talk about. Life is hard Diary. I am learning to keep things to myself like loving horses and things I hear in the house. Sincerely, Jolly The lesson I learned when I found out that my key was not the only thing that opened my book was people keep secrets and so should I. To my surprise my brothers asked to have a turn at telling what they had found out that day. I thought I was the smartest person in my family but I found out that I really shouldn’t tell all the things I did in my diary too. That was not a brilliant thing to do especially when I left the book in plain view of everyone. I knew the key had not left my chain around my neck. I even took a bath with my necklace as I called it. My brothers had gone through my diary and wrote notes or tore out pages. I got in trouble for blaming the cat for knocking over the vase in the living room where I was not supposed to go. My siblings and I called the living room the museum because no one was allowed in there. I was practicing my sleuthing sliding under the couch and when I bumped my head on the end table the vase started to fall. I heard it rolling on the table so I tried to get out from under the table as fast as I could before it fell. Instead, I made things worse and when I tried to catch the vase, my clumsiness sent the vase flying and crashing on the floor. I felt bad for blaming the cat and felt I had to tell someone so I wrote it in my diary. The day my brothers told my story was the day that I decided I would not be the next Nancy Drew. I was better at making up stories and leaving my brothers alone. They liked it better that way. My teachers all said I had the gift of gab and I needed to write my stories instead of telling everyone my ideas during class. I liked writing the more I wrote. My mother and Dolly bought me pretty pens and journals. The only thing I liked more than writing was reading. I still got to have my five minutes at dinner for the next few years to spin my tales. My brothers would make fun of me or argue that my idea wasn’t possible. These interactions would benefit me later in my life but I wasn’t a fan of it when it was happening. Got in Trouble Again: Dear Diary, I am writing in you with tears in my eyes. My brothers got into you and I am sorry they ripped out some of your pages. You gave away my secrets. I know it wasn’t your fault but I felt betrayed. I got in big trouble for lying about the vase and for breaking it. I had no idea I shouldn’t trust anyone from getting into you. Dolly wasn’t happy that I lied to her. We have our secrets that I haven’t even told you and they are big! I mean really big! I almost started to tell you one day and I thought I’d better find a better hiding place before I do. It was a very bad day. Sincerely, Jolly I was not sure if it was a good thing to be the youngest or it was the worst thing that could ever happen to a child. I hadn’t figured out what birth order was best. These were things I thought about as a child. Being the baby of the family had made it nice as far as my older siblings having paved the way for me but sometimes, I felt like I had a lot of responsibility that they didn’t have. I had all the attention of my parents that used to be divided among the four of us. One by one I got more attention and responsibilities as my two brothers and one sister had left home. I had to attend all the parties and dinner meetings to represent my siblings. To me it seemed that my parents liked to control what each of their children did in their lives. Well, that was the way I saw it. I thought because I was the youngest, I was forced to go everywhere with my parents or maybe because they had a hard time controlling me that I was dragged to every charity event and golf outing my parents went to and that was many. I knew my place when we were out together and would never talk back or question them. That might have been the reason I had to go with them to these numerous events. They, my mother especially, learned not to push my buttons too much during these events because there would be payback at home. They had yet to figure out how to punish me for my bad behavior because I didn’t care if I was grounded, no television or the use of my phone. I was happy to go to my room and read or write. Once my mother made me stay with her instead of going to my room and I talked to her non-stop asking her questions about what she was doing and why. My mother tolerated that for about an hour then sent me to my room. I was six. It seemed to me that my brothers did what my parents wanted them to do with little hesitation. Of course, I was so young when they left home so my memory was a little vague. They both studied finance and management so they could eventually take over the family business of our hotels and upscale apartment buildings. My sister was allowed to study what she wanted but had to go to school close enough that she could come home when my mother needed her. Dolly was my mother’s favorite and my mom had her wrapped around her little finger. That was made more evident as the years went on. We did have our secrets Dolly and me. Though I thought if my mother would have said jump Dolly, of course Dolly would jump without asking a question. On the other hand, I would ask a million questions then I might jump or not. I was a frustration for my mother and she did her best to try to break me. I couldn’t be broken. I had a will of my own my father would say to my mother over and over. The only thing my parents were proud about me was that I had straight A’s and was happy about studying. Too smart: Dear Diary, my homeroom teacher asked me if I wanted to skip a grade because I was so far ahead of my class. I begged Mrs. Lightfoot not to tell my parents and thanked her for not saying anything in front of the class. I have a few friends that don’t make fun of me for knowing more than them. I would be made fun of by everyone if I were promoted to the next grade level. I don’t like to be made fun of as you know. Being in middle school is tough enough I didn’t need another thing to add to my stress. You can tell when students hear Dolly Parton’s song Jolene for the first time, they come to school and sing it behind my back as we are walking down the hall. It is tough enough to have flaming red hair and green eyes but that song puts another knife in my back. I heard my father tell my mother that this week's subject for our discussion will be about religion in school. I am reading all about it so maybe they will let me be a part of the discussion. Sincerely, Jolly I loved to study. My friends thought I was nuts about how much I loved learning. Give me something that I didn’t understand and I would be at the library looking for more information. I knew I could look stuff up on the internet but I loved books and the research was so much fun. The feel of the books in my hands felt good, turning the pages was pleasing. I had been caught more than once sniffing a book. Oh, how I loved the smell of an old musty book. I couldn’t tell you how many bookmarks I had, but they almost made a book themselves when stacked together. My siblings all had graduated from college and my oldest brother Porter had his MBA. Joshua hadn’t decided if he was going to get his MBA or not. He asked father if it would be okay if he worked for him for a couple of years then decide if he wanted to go back and get a law degree. My dad was thrilled Joshua was thinking about a law degree so he accepted his offer to work. It had been several years and he still hadn't gone back to college. I really didn’t think Joshua wanted to go back to school, he thought he had to make our father happy by dangling a law degree over his head. I thought Joshua was happy working for father because he still came to dinner on Sunday. Sunday was a day that we all knew we were to attend the family dinner and the discussion that followed. My father loved to talk about politics, religion or whatever hot topic was happening in the news. My mother got what she wanted before dinner…we listened to Dolly Parton music. That was the only time my mother would relax her persona was when she listened to Dolly Parton music. We were all to be there when she would play her choices for the evening. The music would transform my mother. If you would watch closely you could see the transformation take place. First the smile would appear, the tension in her body would fall away with each beat of the music and the last bit of transformation was the twinkle in her eyes. My family did seem to notice the change but I did. The smile that appeared when she would play one of her favorites “Jolene” was magical to me. She would come over to me and touch my face and sing Jolene to me. When I was little my mother would twirl me around or I would twirl around by myself. I loved how my dresses would swish and make a noise I liked. I thought my mother would dance with me because I could never sit still or keep my mouth closed. All that changed when we danced together. When I got old enough to understand the lyrics I thought it was weird but kind of sweet. She was singing about a woman who was talking about her husband but when she sang about the flaming locks of auburn hair with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green. I always smiled because she was looking at me so sweetly. The next line was ‘your smile is like a breath of spring.’ My mother would gently take hold of my chin and slightly shake it. That was the only time my mother would touch me that made me feel loved. Then she was off moving to somewhere other than singing to me. As I got older I didn’t dance anymore and I sat and looked bored like everyone else. It was my secret that I liked my mother’s singing. She seemed free and I thought in a different life she would have been a singer. On the evenings that Jolene was the first song in her line up of the evening, she would sit with me throughout the whole song. If the song was near the end, she was off to the kitchen to oversee dinner prep. She moved back and forth between the kitchen and the family room. You’d better be in the room when she came back or she would stop the music and Mother was on a mission to find the missing person. My father had to be there too if he expected her to be there during his discussion. If he were late or tried to sneak out, mother would be very dramatic in her departure from the dining room when dinner was finished. My brother Joshua had her attention when she played Dolly’s Joshua’s song. Joshua had black hair like my father. Joshua teased my mother once when she sang the song to him that he was going to grow his hair long and grow a beard. We didn’t hear that song again for a long time and when she did play it, she wouldn’t stroll over to tousle his hair. Dolly and Porter were lucky that they didn’t have songs about them that she sang. If the two of them went out together people might ask if their parents were fans of Dolly Parton. If Dolly and I were out together and we were introduced people usually chuckled at Dolly and Jolene. We were tired of telling people that our mother was obsessed with Dolly Parton and so was our grandmother. My father just went along with naming us because apparently my mother held it over his head how hard it was to deliver his children. That was how she got what she wanted throughout their married life. Frustration: Dear Diary, I asked for a horse for my birthday for the umpteenth time. Still the answer is no, ladies don’t ride horses. My mother is wrong. I have a secret to tell you but I am afraid someone will find it out. I can tell you that I found my song. It is called ‘No Reins’ by Rascal Flatts. The moment I heard it I realized they were singing about me. I am nothing like my family…maybe I really am adopted. Sinc Jol PS. I am working on my next book. It is about a little girl who wants a horse and her parents won’t buy it for her even though they have the money for it. Mother, if you are reading my diary and I think you are, does this sound familiar? PPS. Find a better place to hide my diary. Like I said, I rarely saw or talked to my brothers. I really didn’t have much in common with them except that we shared some DNA. They were civil to each other and to me. I think because I was the baby of the family and so much younger than they were I was of no interest to them. Dolly was totally different. She was ten years older than me and from day one I was hers. She was the only one in my opinion that showed me any kind of love. What I thought love should be. I didn’t have to do exactly what she wanted me to do for her to show me love. I could be who I really wanted to be around her and she wouldn’t scold me. For example, from an early age I loved horses and I wanted one in the worst way. Every birthday I would ask for a horse and my mother would say, “Ladies don’t ride horses.” When I was five, I had already learned I wasn’t supposed to say “Huh?” I had no idea what ladies were and how they were to behave. When Dolly was old enough to take me places without supervision, she would find a way for me to see a live horse and even pet one. When Dolly could drive, she would use her money so I could even ride a horse. Dolly understood me more than anyone. I needed to be free and riding a horse gave me that feeling of freedom. I had a picture of me on a horse that Dolly framed for me and told me to hide it between the mattress and the box spring as far in as my arm would reach. I had to make sure that mother didn’t find it. Every once in a while, when I was upset or sad, I would pull out the picture and just look at it. I would remember the day that Dolly took the picture and it would lift my spirits. Losing My Heart Mom: Dear Diary, I cried myself to sleep last night in my closet. Harold came over to dinner. He stood up to get everyone’s attention. He put his hand on Dolly’s shoulder and announced that they were getting married. He had the biggest smile while Dolly looked down. Harold is nice…sorta. He has a weird sense of humor that I don’t get. Plus, he doesn’t talk to me, he talks over me, like I am not smart enough to understand him. He does talk in riddles sometimes and after he leaves, I have heard father say to my mother, did you understand Harold? Mother’s reply is always that he comes from a good family and he will make for a wonderful husband. I guess that is my mother’s way of saying he makes enough money. I am going to lose the only person I care about to a man. My heart is broken, sinc Jol PS. I finished book number twelve last night. I will let you know what my next book will be about as soon as I decide what to write about. I know you know it will have horses in it :-) When I was twelve Dolly got engaged to the right man as far as my parents were concerned. I wasn’t sure about him. He seemed a little stuffy to me. Harold came from a prominent family in Denver and was an accountant. My father thought he would make a good addition to our family business. I thought he got in the way of Dolly and me having fun. Dolly told me that we had to keep our outings a secret from Harold. “Jolly, he wouldn’t approve of us going horseback riding.” I was perplexed why anyone would marry someone that they had to keep secrets from? It seemed wrong that Dolly had to keep a secret about something she loved to do. I was going to keep my pact with her because the past year Dolly had been riding with me. We had a blast riding in the mountains, along streams and some meadow lands. Dolly found us places to ride all over the area. It was exciting in two ways: one I got to ride and brush the horse when I was finished riding and two Dolly and I had something that just the two of us knew about. I couldn’t even tell my friends because they might tell their parents and in turn their parents might say something about it to my parents. I was learning about being sneaky and it became a handy skill. When Dolly got married, I was her maid of honor. I was so excited. Dolly picked the dress that looked best on me rather than her other so-called friends. Mother picked the other bridesmaids. That was when I learned who was who in the society of the snobs of Denver. These were Dolly’s words. I felt bad for her. How could mother not let Dolly pick out who she wanted in her own wedding? I knew I didn’t want my mother making those decisions for me. I told Dolly she should say something to Mother. For some reason Dolly couldn’t or wouldn’t stand up to her. I felt so much older wearing all the new dresses I got when we hosted all the events surrounding Dolly’s engagement. We had two engagement parties, two wedding showers, three bridal showers and one bachelorette party. I was the host of one of the bridal showers though I couldn’t plan any of it. My mother didn’t like any of my ideas. They were too juvenile for her taste. I was a little upset. One of the bridal showers was hosted by her real friends and they included me in the planning. They even took one of my ideas for a game to play: cell phone scavenger hunt. I gave ideas like a selfie with the bride, wedding date on their calendar, something the color of our emerald green dresses of the bridesmaids, stuff like that. The wedding was an elegant event and Dolly looked so beautiful in her wedding gown. I wasn’t sure if she was as happy as I would be getting out of our house. My parents had refused to let her live on her own. They said she was too delicate to make it on her own. I really thought they were wrong but Dolly thought they might be right. “Jolene, I wish I had your confidence. You are braver than I am.” “Dolly, you are smart and I know if you wanted to you could live on your own and maybe find a man that you really love.” Well, that upset Dolly. I sometimes put my foot in my mouth but I wanted her to have her best life. “Jolene, I love Harold. He is perfect. Mother and Father love him too.” Why did it matter that mother and father loved him? I didn’t understand why that made a difference. The way she said she loved him was like a duty she had. All of this troubled me. I wanted Dolly to be happy. I knew she made me feel loved and I prayed that Harold made her feel loved. “I will tell you one thing Dolly. When I find the right guy, I won’t care if Mother and Father liked him.” I knew I sounded snotty like her bridesmaids but I probably sounded like a naive twelve-year-old. Though in my head Dolly and I were the same age metaphorically. “Now, Jolene, Mother and Father are just looking out for us. They want us to have a good life.” Dolly was snippy yet but I could tell I was pushing her buttons. “I will have a good life if I love my husband to the tips of my toes no matter how much money he has.” “Jolene!” Well, that statement sent her over the edge and she yelled for her. She really never raised her voice to me; she just had this tone in her voice that told me I had gone too far. “I am sorry Dolly, I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you don’t love Harold because of his money.” Really, I didn’t know why she loved him. I thought love would be something like you couldn’t keep your hands off the person. I never saw them touch each other or even kiss. After the wedding, I was hoping we would still go horseback riding together. To my dismay, she was afraid to go riding. I didn’t understand why until one Sunday dinner. Harold brought a bottle of champagne and when it came time to toast, they announced that they were going to have a baby. I was surprised that their baby should come almost ten months after they got married. I knew I should have been happy but I knew my freedom was over. Dolly wouldn’t have time for me once the baby came. During dinner Dolly wouldn’t look at me and I didn’t understand why. When father declared that the family discussion was over, Dolly asked me to show her my homework and maybe she would be able to help me. We had to use her offer to help me with my homework as our code to talk without our parents around. Neither parent would offer to help me with my homework. When I was younger sometimes Joshua would quiz me on my times tables but the rest of my assistance with my homework was done by Dolly. Porter was out of the house and in college when I started school. Dolly and I were excused to work on my homework problem. If I were honest, I didn’t need help, but that was the best excuse we could think of so we could talk alone. Really the only thing that Dolly helped me with was calling the homework hotline. Dolly was my teacher in all areas except for school. Dolly was the one who taught me about the facts of life and my period. She wanted me to know everything before I started to ask questions. She didn’t want it to be a shock for me when I started my period like it was for her. I was so fortunate that I had Dolly in so many ways and it was so sad that she wasn’t around much anymore. “Jolly, I wanted to tell you that I was pregnant but Harold said you were too young and would tell mother and father before we did.” I looked at my carpet because I couldn’t face Dolly. “You haven’t called me Jolly in a long time.” I looked up at her, “Dolly, you know I keep secrets.” I was a little upset. “Jolly, I know you are the best secret keeper. I just couldn’t go against Harold’s wishes. I hope you understand. Maybe, I can go riding after the baby is born.” Dolly saw my disappointment. “I will still try to get away and take you but I won’t ride. Dolly took me riding a couple of more times than when the baby came and our getting together stopped. It was hard for me at first to welcome Harold Jr. because he had taken the only person who I could be myself around. I lost all my resentfulness once Harry was big enough to take a hold of my finger and laugh. I was the only one who called him Harry. I just couldn’t bring myself to call him Harold. He was so tiny and that name didn’t fit him anyway. Dolly just asked that I not call him Harry around anyone. She didn’t want me to get in trouble. Life is a conflict of feelings: Dear Diary, my life has ended the way I knew it. Dolly isn’t around anymore. Baby Harry is adorable but I don’t fit into Dolly’s life now. Okay, I am being dramatic as mother would say. I just wish Dolly and I could go off together and go riding. I can’t wait until I can drive! That is a long way away but maybe I can figure something out. I need the feeling of being free. My parents drag me everywhere. S. J. Once Dolly’s second baby came along, the only time I saw Dolly was if I went to her house which wasn’t far from our house and Sunday during dinner. I thought the dinners were why my parents hired Betty. Betty was their new nanny. Mother and Father hired her to help their poor daughter who had two babies in two years. Plus my parents couldn’t handle the noise that two small children contributed to our dinner time. It was easy for them to put them in the kitchen with Betty and the cook. It was fun dressing Dorothy in frilly dresses but Betty was always hovering around the four of us. Again, they called their child another big name for a small child so I started calling her Dot. Dolly, Harry and Dot, were watched all the time. Apparently, Betty reported to my parents since they hired her. I felt sorry for Dolly. Finding my niche: Dear Diary: If I have to go to another adult function I am going to scream! I have to figure out how I can get out of these parties. I need to make sure that my mother doesn’t want to take me. I wish you could talk to help me with this problem. I know the more I write about my problems the better it gets. S.J. Because I was a challenge, my parents thought I would be good at Debate so my freshman year of high school I joined the Speech and Debate team. That took the place of going horseback riding. I found a new love. I had years of practice on Sunday night when it was time for discussion. Because of my love of reading, I would study for these discussion sessions with Father. I waited patiently hoping it was a topic that I had prepared for. That was the only time that Porter would talk to me in earnest. If we were on the same side, he would praise me. If we were on opposite sides, he would try his hardest to persuade me to his side. Sometimes, my father would call a draw and praise both of us for having good ideas. I was considered one of the best debaters in our school. I got to travel on weekends to debate competitions and I loved squashing my opponent. A huge bonus, I found I didn’t have to go to as many parties because I was too busy with competitions and practicing. A couple of times Dolly got to come and watch the debate. That made the whole event better having someone there cheering me on. I was winning awards on top of awards. My mother said they were going to have to build an addition to the house for all of my awards. My debate teacher said I could get a scholarship with how good I was but to be more competitive I should start doing speech too. My junior year I was doing both speech and debate. I wanted that scholarship because I knew my parents wouldn’t pay for a college that wasn’t their choice. They would only pay for where they wanted me to go. I knew I was being a little obstinate at that time. I had no idea where they wanted me to go. I just knew I wanted options. I was as independent as they come. Weighing my options: Dear Diary: What do you think about this sentence? “The time has come for you to become the person you were meant to be.” I feel like I have read this line somewhere and I don’t know where. Maybe it was on a poster in one of my friends' rooms. I have to find it. I want to start a book about a teenage girl who runs away from her family to find herself. It’s not about me but sometimes I feel like I am being smothered here. I have to do some research on this. Anyway, this girl’s aunt tells her this because her parents are sick in the head and she needs to get out from under them so she can be the doctor that she wants to be. Her aunt can’t take care of her either. I am still working on the outline. So much research to do! I have to find a college that I want to go to, too. Life is fun here in Denver…tongue sticking out. S.J. It was coming time for me to start thinking about college and my mother brought me an application for Denver University. “Here you go. Your father and I have talked it over and we decided that you should go to Denver University, it’s close to home.” Close to home! It was down the street from us! There was no way I was going to go there. “We know your grades are good enough and your father knows the president. He says it is a wonderful university” I sat there at my desk just staring up at her in disbelief. “It is a good school.” Well, at least, her tone had changed from demanding to pleading. No, pleading was not the word: cajoling was more like it. She should have known by then demanding something from me was not how to handle me. I took the application from her, “Thanks, Mother.” My tone was reassuring to her because I saw her smile. Little did she know that I had already started applying to a dozen colleges all around the country. Whoever gave me the best scholarship wins. I knew my parents would not be paying for anything but Denver University now that they decided that was the college I should attend. Dear Diary, one sentence for you. Parents don’t listen to their children! S.J. Bridezilla Times Two: My senior year was a busy year for our family. Porter and Joshua had found women of our standards to marry. My parents wanted Joshua to wait a year but someone in her family talked my parents into six months after because all of their family got married in May and they didn’t think it was right to make Joshua and Vivian wait a year and a half. Dolly was going to have another baby between the weddings. Because she was having a baby she didn’t have to be in the weddings. She was lucky. Porter’s fiancé Carolyn was such a bridezilla. She wanted me to dye my hair to match the other bridesmaids. She didn’t like how I stood out when we were all standing in line with our dresses on. My mother was upset and so was I. I didn’t want mousy brown hair! Carolyn’s mother took her into the dressing room and when they finally came out Carolyn said in a very pouty voice, “You can keep your hair color.” I couldn’t believe that her mother handed Carolyn one of her diamond rings as she finished saying I could keep my hair color. I guess my hair was worthy of a big diamond. I might have dyed my hair if she had made me that offer. Joshua’s fiancé Vivian was a little better but not much. We all had to wear our hair the same way and have the same color dress at every event we attended together. They had more showers than Dolly and Carolyn had. I think they were in competition with Porter and Carolyn. Everything had to be better than theirs. I think my parents liked that they only had two daughters’ weddings to pay for. I knew I wouldn’t be having a wedding like any of them. I knew I wouldn’t be as picky as all of them. Dolly didn’t have a choice of anything at her wedding except which dress I wore though I know my mother loved my dress so maybe she was letting Dolly think she got her way. You could say my mother was a motherzilla though she was pretty much that way all the time. Baby Colleen was born the day after Christmas. I felt sorry for her because no one was going to want to come to her birthday parties the day after Christmas. She looked like she might have my auburn hair. That excited me because I was the only one who had that hair color. My grandfather had my color I was told but he died before I was born. Harry and Dot were so excited about having a baby sister. Harry would rather have had a brother but once they placed Colly in his arms he was in love. “Baby sister, I will always protect you.” I didn’t know where he came up with those words but we were all in awe of the little fellow. During the holidays, I walked into the kitchen as my mother tore something up in disgust. When she saw me, she stuffed it deep into the trash can. “Some Democrat mailing,” she said with a nervous laugh. My curiosity had to find out what the letter was. When she was out of the room, I quickly went through the trash to see what it was. It was my letter of acceptance to Harvard University with an invitation to interview for a Debate scholarship. How dare she tear up my acceptance letter. It was Harvard for God sakes. You would have thought she would have been proud that I got accepted to Harvard. I was proud. I had to call Dolly at the hospital and ask if Harold was there. He wasn’t so she was free to talk. She didn’t like that I was going that far away. “Jolly, couldn’t you find something closer to home.” Grateful for email: Dear Diary: It’s a red-letter day or maybe a red-letter email day. Since I don’t trust anyone in this house that is all you are getting today. So far this is the best day of my life. I look forward to what is to come now. I just have two hurdles right now. I hope they aren’t that big but that is wishful thinking. You are the only one I can share this exciting information with but you will have to read between the lines to know what it is. S.J. I was glad that I had applied to a couple of places that sent the acceptance letter in the form of an email. I got accepted to the University of Wyoming and they offered me a full ride scholarship if I stayed on the Dean’s list. I didn’t think that was a problem as I have never gotten anything but A’s. I accepted their offer. I was excited but I knew the challenge I was going to have with my parents. I was trying to decide when to tell them. I thought it would be best to wait until I packed my car and drove off. Dolly didn’t like that idea. When I got my acceptance letter for going to the University of Denver I was wavering if I should tell them then. My mother started with, “You should sign that and we can put that in the mail tomorrow.” She set it right in front of me and jabbed her pointer into the paper. “No, that is alright I can do it another day.” I really didn’t want to get into an argument right then so I tried to put it off. “Jolene there is no reason why you should delay signing it right now, then I can put it in the mail.” She retrieved a pen for me to sign the letter. Mother was pushing the letter and the pen at me to sign it. I knew she wasn’t going to give up. “Well, if you insist on talking about this now, I want you to know I have already signed to go to school in Wyoming.” Well, that went over like a lead balloon. She acted like I had hurt her to the core and wouldn’t discuss it until my father came home. When my father came home I heard him yelling my name in a tone that he held for a dog that got in his way. I had prepared my outline of why I should attend University Wyoming. He wasn’t prepared for my defense or attack. He thought he could get me to change my mind but I changed his mind. My mother wasn’t happy. She wanted me to live here and go to school. I thought the reason why she wanted me to live here was so she could control me like she controlled Dolly. Mother wouldn’t talk to me for over a week. I was fine because I had peace, which I didn’t have most weeks. Parents!: Dear Diary: I am sure you heard the explosion that happened today. It didn’t take me as long as I thought it would to change my father’s mind. He wasn’t prepared for my attack. He couldn’t believe that I thought they wanted me around to take care of them in their old age. That one really flustered him. I am hoping my mother’s not talking will last until I go away to school. I am sure she thinks I am an ungrateful daughter. Mother, when you read this, I know you have given me a wonderful life. I just want to go away to college like my brothers. S.J. I thought Joshua’s wedding was going to overshadow my graduation but it didn’t. Vivian even thought about it and made sure that I was having a graduation party. She suggested that I wear one of the dresses I got for one of her showers. The one that went with my hair and eyes and the least seen by the people who would come to the party. I thought she was sweet to think about me. My mother wouldn’t hear of me wearing a dress that people had seen before. Vivian and Dolly insisted on going shopping with Mother and me. Mother wanted to buy this very fashionable sundress that went well with my skin color and hair. The bridesmaids all had to go to a tanning booth before Vivian’s wedding so I was very tanned. I liked the dress my mother had picked out until Vivian walked up with this white dress with the aquamarine flowers -- I knew it was the dress for me. I loved it. My mother wasn’t sure about it being a halter top and the stretchy fitted waist through the hips. I thought the ruffle on the bottom was cute. Vivian and Dolly insisted that we buy the dress for my graduation party. They both went nuts over it and loved it just as much as I did. Mother had to agree to buy it because they said I had to have it. I was liking Vivian even more than I thought I would. I knew we weren’t going to be best friends or travel in the same circle but at least there would be another person I would be happy to talk to at the dinner table on Sunday. Vivian and Joshua’s wedding was perfect. We all looked like we came from California instead of Denver. I almost got into a fight with the wedding planner who thought she could stick her hand into the top of my dress without asking. I failed to get the little string you hang the dress on secured inside my dress. I had no idea what she was doing when she came and slipped her hand in my dress over my breast. I was about to hit her with my bouquet of flowers. Luckily, Dolly was paying attention and grabbed my hand from hitting her. The wedding planner never said excuse me or sorry. She was too busy talking into her headset. After all these weddings, I decided I was going to find a guy who didn’t like big weddings. I hated talking to all these people who didn’t know me and really didn’t care that I was the sister. I was too busy to date much so I didn’t have a boyfriend to hang out with at any of the weddings. It didn’t really bother me. I sat on the outside and watched. I just thought about what my next book I was going to write. Sometimes I was able to pull my phone out to read my current book or take notes for a book idea. I was still writing when I had time. The family rule was we couldn’t date until we were seventeen, which I turned last summer. I knew my brothers didn’t listen to that rule. When I wanted to take the time to go out I found ways to sneak out with a guy. No one ever made the cut to bring home to mother and father. I knew the couple of guys that I went out with a few times would have been chewed up and spat out of the house. I liked independent liberal guys and my family was very conservative. I was always on the liberal side when we had discussions at Sunday dinner. I held my ground and I needed to find someone who could stand up to my family. If a guy ever did, I knew I would marry him or at least have repeated dates. I was happy I was allowed to have a few friends at my graduation party. Why, oh, why did I have to have people I didn’t even know come to my party? I didn’t get to pick the food, decorations, or people. I was thrilled that I got to wear the dress we bought. At the last minute, my mother walked into my bedroom with the sundress she liked. She had brought in the sundress without letting me know. She told me she wanted me to wear it. I told her if she insisted I wear it, I would not attend my party. I said it in a tone that she knew I meant business. I won that battle. I played the hostess and greeted everyone in my beautiful white dress with the aquamarine flowers. The best thing about my party was that I met Evan, a son to a business partner of my father’s. He was not happy to be there but when I sat down to talk to him, he turned on his charm. When we were introduced, I thought he was probably the cutest boy I had ever seen. He lived north of Denver in Frederick. My friends all thought he was cute too, and they surrounded us as soon as I sat with him. They wanted to know how I knew him. Then they started asking him question after question. We went into the game room that my brothers insisted we had to have and never were in as much as I was. I practiced playing darts and pool as long as my mother never saw me in there. If she did, I would be ushered out and told ladies don’t play pool and definitely don’t throw darts. Evan was impressed that I could play pool. I was better than he was and when I saw that he was getting frustrated with me beating him I backed off. I didn’t back off on darts and narrowly beat him on the last throw. He said he wanted a rematch and would call me. My friends were jealous, which really didn’t bother me. Half of them were already dating someone. I wasn’t sure if he would call me even though he had me put my phone number into his phone. It wasn’t a week and he called me asking me out on a date. My mother and father were very happy. The suspicion that my parents had set up Evan being at my party was unsettling. I had to process the pros and cons about going out on the date with Evan. The pros won because I liked Evan and we had fun at my party. We went on our first date; we hiked our way around Lake Ladora. There was no competition there. We talked about our colleges that we were going to attend. He was going to Colorado State less than an hour from his house. I was glad my college was at least two hours away. I wish it were further but getting a full scholarship and having one of the best college debate teams, it was hard to say no to. We talked about how we would be about an hour from each other. He was glad I would have my own car so I could come visit him when there were home football games. I could drive down to Fort Collins and watch him play then we could go out together afterward. That didn’t sound like fun to me but I agreed to do it. I did admit I had no idea what my time commitment for speech and debate would be. He said he could tell that I would be good at debate after trying to decide where to have our first date. He said he had never met a girl like me before. I chuckled and thought, had he never met a girl with brains? We both came from strict families and they were a little overbearing, too. His mom sounded a little easier going than mine: for one reason he was allowed to call her mom. I had to call mine “mother.” If I said mom, she wouldn’t answer me. They went on family vacations and we always said we would but never did. I knew my family went on trips before I was born because I had seen pictures. My mother said that we would go on one soon then I would ask if we could go somewhere other than Denver. My father was too busy to go anywhere was his reply to my asking about a vacation. For the next two months Evan and I would go hiking somewhere around Denver. My mother suggested before Evan had to move into the dorms at Colorado State that it would be nice if Evan attended Sunday dinner. I wasn’t sure about it. We would have to be there during the music hour and I would have to watch him see my mom singing Jolene to me. To make matters worse, then my family would probably attack him during the discussion after dinner. Evan brought it up first, “My mom said your mom called her to ask if I would like to come to dinner tomorrow. Why didn’t you ask me?” He was a little annoyed that my mom asked him. “Evan, you don’t know what coming to dinner entails. First, we all have to sit around and listen to my mother play Dolly Parton music.” “Oh, is that where your name comes from?” The realization crossed his face. “You know Dolly Parton's music?” I was surprised he hadn’t figured it out sooner since he knew her music. He looked a little embarrassed, “Yeah, my parents love her music, really all country music.” “Yeah, but do your parents sing it to you? Then after dinner there is a discussion about some topic my father picks. Sometimes these discussions get a little heated. My dad might pick on you and I really don’t want to put you through that.” “I can handle myself. My mom wants me to go so I guess I am going.” “Do you always do what she wants?” I was curious, not accusatory though he took it that way. “You do what your mom wants!” “Hey, don’t be upset, I was really curious. My siblings always do what my parents want and I do it about half the time, maybe less if I am honest with myself. I was just wondering if I was just strange. It seems some of my friends do what their parents want them to do.” “Well, I do most of the time to keep the peace. I might sneak around and if I get caught, I ask for forgiveness. I find that easier than asking for permission.” I knew about sneaking around. I have been sneaking around after school once a week to go horseback riding. No one knew I did that. I felt so free on the back of Blacky or Velvet. I volunteered at the stables once a week too. I cleaned the stalls, brushed down the horses or my favorite thing was to walk a horse around the arena with a beginner on the horse. To see the child smile was enough to make me smile for days just remembering it. I remember when I started to ride. Dolly would sit on the bleachers and clap if I did something new. It was a wonderful memory and I still could conjure up the feeling it gave me. That Sunday Evan came to dinner. He didn’t argue any points, just agreed with my father. I was not happy. Sometimes my dad was so right wing it was hard for me to stomach. He thought we should have guns in the schools. I thought there was a place for guns out in the country but not in the city. I was having a hard time getting my thoughts together because I thought I knew Evan. Why did he agree with my dad? My father said I lost that one which pissed me off. What really pissed me off was Carolyn’s comment, “Jolene you should leave the debating to the men. They know more about these subjects than we do.” That did it, I let loose a tirade of comments that got Porter mad at me. He asked me, “Why do you think you are so smart?” “Did you get into Harvard? I did.” There was a gasp from Dolly and laughter from my brothers. “Mother tell them that you tore up my acceptance to Harvard.” I stared my mother down. Instead of answering me she asked, “How did you know I tore it up?” It was my brothers who took in some air. My father was shocked as well. “I went through the trash. I thought I didn’t want to go that far away from home but now I wish I would have asked for the interview for a scholarship.” I stood up. I looked around the room. “You do realize that I got a full ride scholarship to one of the top ranked universities for debate. I am not as stupid as you think.” I walked off leaving Evan unsure of what to do. I ran upstairs to start packing. I had two weeks until I could get into the dorm and I was going to get in the minute I could. Dolly knocked on the door, “Can I come in?” I didn’t say anything, just moved things off the section of bed where she usually sat while we talked. “I am sorry you feel like you have to run away from here. I wish you would talk to me.” “You are too busy with baby Colly. We don’t have time to sit and talk. Besides, I didn’t pick Harvard because it was too far away from you.” “Jolene, it is huge getting into Harvard. I am sorry you felt like you couldn’t share your frustrations about Mother with me. You know I will always be here for you.” I stopped packing and looked at her, “Dolly, I wish that were true.” I knew saying it might hurt but I felt like I was in this world alone and had been for a long time. “You and I can’t talk openly around Betty or Harold and now that Harry is being a little parrot we have to be very careful.” Dolly stood up and came over to me and gave me a hug. I accepted it gratefully. She stood back, “Jolene, I am sorry you feel like I have let you fall to the wayside and maybe it seems like it. You are my first joy, Jolly.” She hasn’t called me Jolly in a long time. That made me smile. “Listen, you are such a good writer and I think I can write well enough. How about if we write to each other?” “I would like that.” It was my turn to give her a hug. I probably hung on her too long but it had been so long since I felt like someone was on my side. We were interrupted by a knock at my door. It was Evan. Dolly left me and told me that I was to come to lunch on Tuesday. Evan walked around my room until he was sure that Dolly was out of ear shot. “So, you were accepted to Harvard, that is huge,” he said without looking at me. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” He finally looked at me. “It would have sounded like I was bragging.” “For what it is worth I know you are smart. I think your family just thinks of you as a little girl. You should know that your dad wasn’t happy with your mom. He told her they would discuss it later. Your mom looked a little nervous when he said that.” “Thanks for letting me know.” I just kept busy pulling stuff out that I wanted to take with me. I would have to be selective when it came to my books. I was sure my roommate wouldn’t like to have a room full of books. I knew she was smart but that didn’t mean she held onto every book she bought or got as a gift. “I think like you do about guns. It scares me to think they want to put guns into the classroom.” That statement stopped me in my tracks. He sat down on the little space left where Dolly had been sitting. I shove stuff over and flop down next to him. “Why didn’t you say so?” I was a little too exasperated. “I didn’t want to upset your dad.” Well, that told me all I needed to know about Evan. I was not going to let our relationship go any further than it had already. We kissed and touched and he had been asking for more. I told him soon but I wasn’t ready yet. I will never be ready with Evan. Since it was our last night before he left, I did kiss him goodbye but I didn’t have the nerve to tell him it was over. I was taking the easy way out. I knew for how good-looking he was that he would have a new girlfriend when school started, probably a cheerleader. The next Sunday dinner I was not going to attend. I was going to break the cycle of everyone being there. Vivian and Joshua came over around noon and Vivian came up to my room just as I was getting some stuff ready to put into my car. I had been taking an armload down every time I was leaving the house. I knew my parents would not be helping me pack my car. I was just glad they were letting me take my car to school. It was so I would come home every weekend I was sure that was the reason. “Jolene, may I talk to you for a minute?” With my arms full I stood there, “sure.” “Please can you put your stuff down.” I went to put the armload down on my desk. Vivian patted the bed. I wasn’t sure about sitting on my bed with anyone else but Dolly. “Please come sit with me.” She patted the bed again. I walked over and sat on the bed. “Joshua and I were talking and we are sorry if we made you feel like you weren’t smart. I hope you will join us for dinner tonight. It looked to me that you weren’t going to come back again the way you left last week.” I knew Vivian and I would get along. She understood me. I was totally shocked. “I don’t know if I can.” “Please, Joshua is downstairs waiting for you in the game room to apologize. I made sure he realized he was in the wrong last week and he finally came around to my way of thinking. Jolene, I was accepted to Princeton but my parents wanted me to go to an all-girls college. I did what they wanted me to do. Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing. You are not the only smart woman in that room. I let them think what they want but I have my ways of showing your brother that I am just as smart as him. I pick my battles. You have shown me that I need to speak up at these dinners. There, that is the end of my little speech.” For some reason I hugged Vivian and she actually hugged me back. “Thanks, Vivian. We need to show those guys that we are smart. You know Dolly is smart or she was before she had all those kids. Now she has what we call baby fog. She gets so frustrated that she can’t think of things when we talk. Dolly is a little afraid to speak her mind which makes me so upset sometimes.” We went downstairs to the game room and Joshua was there with the pool table all set for a game. I was thrilled that I beat him. He realized that I was practicing without him around. He apologized every time I sunk a ball in the pocket. I told him I appreciated him being so humble. He did beat me at darts by one point. I asked him if he wanted to challenge me in a game of chess. He said no way and Vivian accepted the challenge. The two of us played a really good game and it took me some time before I checkmated her king. Joshua asked, “So what can’t you do?” “I can do anything I want,” was my reply and he nodded his head yes to that. Porter and Carolyn were a little early for dinner and Joshua made Porter apologize for last week's dinner incident. He didn’t make Carolyn apologize, who really started it all, but no one told Carolyn what to do except Porter. After a little bit and a nudge from Joshua, Porter told Carolyn to apologize to me. I could tell it was hard for her to do and she didn’t mean it. Of course, when Dolly and Harold came in with their three kids the noise level rose and everything went back to normal. Vivian and I each took charge of one child and Dolly took Colly. Carolyn just hung onto Porter’s arm ignoring the kids. Dot was just starting to run in that toddler way that waddles back and forth. It was so cute but you had to keep an eye on her. My mother had not baby proofed the house and Dot could find everything she shouldn’t in a moment’s notice. It was like watching a ball in a pinball machine, the way she could see something out of the corner of her eye and she was off. I would stop her and she was off to something else. The two little ones ate in the kitchen with our cook Libby and the nanny Betty; sometimes Betty would take Colly. After dinner, my father once referred to me as someone who could get into Harvard during the discussion. I guess that was all he was going to acknowledge that I got into Harvard. The discussion was more subdued than normal and Vivian took part in the discussion and looked at me when she made a really good point and I smiled back at her. Carolyn feigned a headache and asked to be dismissed after Vivian said something. Porter said that he had a meeting to prepare for and asked to be dismissed to take Carolyn home and prepare for the meeting. Father wasn’t happy but he let them leave. Porter and Carolyn left before I opened my presents. Mother insisted that everyone bring me something for my dorm room that my siblings’ thought was the best thing they had when they went to college. Dolly and Harold gave me a microwave with an industrialized size box of microwavable popcorn. Vivian and Joshua gave me the cutest electric kettle with matching tea mugs and supposedly the best tea which will be mailed to my dorm each month. I was sure it was Vivian’s idea because Joshua didn’t drink tea. Porter and Carolyn gave me a gift card. I wasn’t sure if they forgot or that Porter just liked cash. I was fine with it because I knew I could use the cash. Mother got me the most expensive sheets for my bed and a tacky Colorado flag bedspread since I was leaving the state. Everyone knew I hated the color yellow so much so I wouldn’t even eat a banana if it was set before me with the peel on it. Yes, I was as spoiled as they came. Dolly pulled me aside and told me that she was mailing me a saddle blanket with blue, sage and cream colors for my bed. She found a woman at an art show that made them for horses and asked if she would make one to fit my dorm bed. That sent me over the moon with excitement. I couldn’t wait to see it. When it came to money, I was lucky that I had gotten a nice allowance weekly since I was a little girl. When I was nine my father was surprised when he asked what I did with all the money he gave me. I said, “I put it in my treasure box.” I didn’t think there was anything wrong with doing such a thing but he thought it was awful. He had me get my treasure box and was surprised how much money was in it. He made me count it out in front of him. I had 1,560 dollars. Afterwards, my father took me to the bank to deposit the money I had collected for years. He thought all that money should be in a bank so it could earn interest. He added another four hundred and forty dollars, enough to make an even two thousand. He said when I had earned five thousand, he would show me about buying CDs. I finally got to that point when I was thirteen. My senior year I had three CDs and by the time I graduated they would all be matured so I would access my money while I was in Wyoming. I was ready for college. The night before I left for school my parents took me to a very nice restaurant, just the three of us. They told me that I was to come home for Sunday dinner. It was okay that I missed this week but next week I was to come home. They would start a little earlier so I had plenty of time to get back to school. When the weather got bad then I had an excuse to not attend but as long as the weather was good, I was to come home. Father emphasized each word, “Do you understand?” I told them yes. My father added, “I will still give you your allowance every time you come home.” Did he think he had to bribe me to come home? If I were wavering, would money be incentive to come back home? I didn’t think so. I was hoping I could get a job when I got up there so I wouldn’t be dependent on them for my spending money, plus I didn’t want to use all the money I had saved. My mood changed as I drove away from home. I felt freer than I had ever felt. That was saying a lot because I always felt free on top of a horse. Driving onto campus I was so excited I couldn’t wait until I found where to park so I could get out of the car. I almost drove over the curb when I saw my dorm. My roommate Madison wasn’t there when I arrived. There was evidence that she had been there because she had already picked her bed. I was guessing she was as excited as I was to be going away to college. I was fine with her choice. I liked the view from my desk. Madison had already put her bed in the loft position and I was going to do the same. I started to work on doing it but she must have had someone to help her because it was not an easy task. As I was trying to get it into position for the third time, some handsome guy ran in the open door and helped me lift my bed. It slid right into place. “Hi,” he said as he was lifting the bed pretty much on his own. “I am Jeff, or as Madison calls me Jefferson. I am her older brother.” In came Madison and started to yell at him, “Jefferson, you left all my stuff out in the hallway. Oh, Hi Jolene, you are here. Great. Jefferson can do all our heavy lifting. He is all muscle and little brains. He is a football player.” I knew Madison was proud that her brother played football because that was one of the first things she told me. She failed to tell me how good looking he was. “Funny Madison. You are lucky you can fit your big head through that door. By the way, I was at the top of my class. You can’t say things around someone who doesn’t know me . At least, let Jolene get to know me first. Then she can’t be persuaded by that big head of yours.” He blew out his cheeks which made me giggle. “I am sure that Jolene will find you just as trite as I do, you moth-eating football player.” She said that over her shoulder as she was unloading a suitcase into her dresser drawers. I had to interrupt the family love match though they seem to be kidding each other in a loving way but the words were not so much. “Excuse me, moth-eating?” Madison turned to me and smiled, “You know, stale, shabby. Jefferson here,” She put her arm around him then hugged him, “is my best friend.” Jefferson smiled, “That is because she has this massive head,” he took his two hands and made a bigger motion over her head. “Nobody can live up to her expectations though after reading your emails and seeing that you got a full ride, I am guessing you will be great roommates.” I turned to look at Madison and she looked sheepishly at me and said, “Sorry, I should have told you that I was letting my brother read your emails. Really, he is my best friend and we share everything. In fact, he is giving us his couch that he had under his loft. Surprisingly, he is a very neat and clean person and the couch looks new. It is still in the truck with the rug my mom found at a yard sale. It looks brand new too. Anyway, he is moving into an apartment with some other football players. My parents said in our senior year we can get an apartment but the first three years we had to live in the dorms if we wanted them to pay for our education.” I was not used to someone who talked as much and as fast as Madison. I just stood there shaking my head yes while Jefferson finished stabilizing my bed in the loft position. I had bought a cube bookcase with baskets for most of the cubby holes. I was glad Jefferson was there helping his sister because he brought up the box containing the bookcase and the microwave. He started putting my bookcase together without me even asking him to. He was not only good looking but useful and handy. After our room was looking pretty good the three of us went over to see the house he was renting. It was a little intimidating to enter the house with so many football players as they were all big guys. Every one of them was so friendly. They all treated Madison as if she were their little sister and most of them flirted with me. After a short while Madison suggested that we leave. I was fine with it. I was not a fan of being looked at like I was a steak dinner set before some starving guys. Madison and I had been communicating for a couple months and I thought we were going to be best friends. I wanted a best friend more than a boyfriend. With Madison not knowing my family, I thought she would be a better friend than anyone at home. I didn’t have to worry she would tell her mom something I didn’t want my mother to know. I have had so many so-called girlfriends who wanted to get me into trouble because I didn’t do something they wanted me to do. All they did was tell their mom I did something unbecoming of my family name and I heard all about it from my mother. After we left, Madison confided in me that she liked one of Jeff’s friends. “Corbet only sees me as Jefferson’s little sister. Show me how you got all those guys to flirt with you.” “Madison, I didn’t do anything to get them to flirt with me.” The look I got was telling. “Honest, I didn’t do anything.” I thought about it for a minute. “Do you think Jeff told the guys that you were off limits? Look at you. You are cute, friendly and smart. Why wouldn’t someone want to go out with you?” “Why would Jefferson tell them I was off limits?” “Maybe he thinks you are still a little girl. They are having a party Friday night. Why don’t we show them all that you are not a little girl. I have a bunch of cute dresses I bet you would fit in. We should do something with your hair besides having it in a ponytail. Someone on our floor has to know how to put makeup on. My sister Dolly always put my makeup on when we had an event.” “An event?” Madison crinkled her nose. “Every party my mother threw was an event.” I said with embitterment.

Get to know Kimberly Caristi, the author, traveler, cook and photographer. Kimberly, originally from St. Louis, embraced her move to the countryside at thirteen. It was the start of her looking forward to change. Throughout her life each significant event has contributed to her growth, shaping her into the person she is today. Especially her marriage to a wonderful man and the births of her son and daughter. Having lived in several places in the Midwest and spending enriching months in Slovenia, Italy, and Greece, she still holds St. Louis close to her heart. Raising two independent children was her main career, which she loved. Her side careers were working as an artist, fundraising, and working for non-profit groups while volunteering her time in the community. Her husband said she was a stay-at-home mom who was never home. With a passion for cooking and baking, Kimberly has made a name for herself in each community she has lived in. Kimberly’s favorite comment came from her Italian born mother-in-law when she said Kimberly was more Italian than her. Since 2020 she has channeled her creativity into her writing. If you can't guess Kimberly loves sunsets especially over the sea.

A fifteen-year-old girl thinks her mother ruins her life when the mother keeps changing their life situation, being a scatter brain, and too busy with her work.  It takes a grandmother figure to help her figure out her mother did everything to give her a life she wanted. Written by Kimberly Caristi A fifteen-year-old girl thinks her mother ruins her life when the mother keeps changing their life situation, being a scatter brain, and too busy with her work. It takes a grandmother figure to help her figure out her mother did everything to give her a life she wanted. #1 My mother ruined my life…again No computer games I couldn’t believe how many times my mother ruined my life. The last one was the worst and the best thing to happen to me. Well, all of them were the best thing and the worst thing to happen to me. I might be a drama queen but my mother does some really deplorable things when it comes to dealing with me and my life. The first time I remember my mom ruining my life was when she wouldn’t buy me Furby Zoom. My best friend had this game and we had so much fun playing it. I received a flat no from my mom. My dad didn’t even get to have any input into the subject. When mom had said no, I went to him and begged him to talk to her. He tried with no such luck. My mom just kept saying they looked stupid and she didn’t like the sound it made. I promised I would only play with it in my room. She didn’t like me playing video games, especially if I had to play them in my room. My dad and mom argued about me getting a tablet in the first place. My mom didn’t like computers. My dad was of the twenty-first century and he was all about computers. My parents met in college. Dad was studying finance and mom was studying art. I was told people thought they were an odd pair. When I asked my mom why they got together she would always say that opposites attract. I heard someone say my dad had such a type A personality so I looked it up on Wikipedia. What I found out was my dad was so type A personality through and through. It said they are outgoing, ambitious, rigidly organized, highly status-conscious, impatient, anxious, proactive, and concerned with time management. People with Type A personalities are often high-achieving workaholics. That described my dad to the letter “T.” They really should have put a picture of my dad next to the description of a type A personality. On the other hand, my mom is totally a type B personality, she is very carefree and relaxed. I would never understand why that meant she failed at understanding the concept of time. I felt like she really didn’t know how to tell time. Another thing that grated on my nerves was that she was so carefree she didn’t mind living in a mess. She was so relaxed about it she didn’t care who saw it. When it comes to my trait I am a totally a type C personality. I am a very detail-oriented individual who likes to be involved in things that are controlled and stable. I am interested in accuracy, rationality, and logic. No wonder my mom and I were always battling it out until I learned to control and stabilize our way of living. Of course, now I have to admit, my mother had a bit of a realization that I needed to control our lives. I really hate to admit that. I was told by my dad’s mom that she couldn’t see what my dad saw in my mom and grandma tried to talk my dad out of marrying mom. My grandma Wright was thrilled that my mom had found someone stable who might put some order in mom’s life. It wasn’t until I had it pointed out to me that I realized she was driven as well, though I didn’t see it that way until I was sixteen and living a life totally different to what I thought it should be. My mom knew she had talent, she just had to hone her craft and prove herself, though in doing so she let everything else in her life except me fall to the wayside. She was always very good at making me feel like I was as important as her art. I just didn’t see it until I saw it myself in other people’s eyes. My dad tried to put order in mom’s life, but they fought all the time about it. As I stated before, my mom had no concept of time. Dad would want mom to be ready at six to go to dinner and mom might be home by six though she would be covered in paint. Time was a constant battle with them. The other battles were how messy the house was and how we didn’t eat as a family half the time. Mom would be so engrossed in a project that she was working on she would forget to fix dinner or not show up at all. She did make sure she was home when it was my bedtime. I loved our bedtime ritual. To be fair, sometimes my dad would work late and mom would have had dinner ready an hour before he got home. A fight would ensue because dad said he told her he wouldn’t be home until seven and she just forgot it. My mom would say, “You always blame me.” They tried to hide their fight from me but I could here my dad yelling all the way to my bedroom. Sometimes I would go downstairs to try to interrupt the fighting. The fighting I blamed on my mom. I was on my dad’s side because she was the one who always ruined my plans. I was on my dad side of things until it was time for bed then everything that went on during the day would fall away. My mom and I would cuddle and talk about what was good in our lives. I needed my mom to go to sleep to feel safe. #2 My mother ruined my life…again My parents’ divorce and my mom and I move to New York City One day mom said she was tired of the fighting and was taking a job at the New York School of the Arts. That was the second time my mom ruined my life. My parents were divorcing and my mom was taking me to New York to live with her. We left my beautiful three-bedroom home with three bathrooms and a pool in Liberty, Missouri, for a rundown loft apartment in New York, New York. I really didn’t even have a bedroom. My mom put up a partition in the corner of the loft so I could have a space of my own. I was eight years old. My dad promised me that he would see me every summer and holidays. He wanted to make sure that I took care of mom. I think he still loved her but just couldn’t live with her anymore. I think my mom still loved my dad because she would cry herself to sleep for the first month we lived in New York. We each had our own partitioned room though you could hear everything that went on in that loft. The Loft in Chinatown was all my mom could afford at the time. The first six months we ate a lot of Chinese food from the little restaurant on the ground floor. When we moved away, we would go back to the little restaurant at least every month. They had the best dumplings and when they made dumpling soup it was over the moon good. Living in New York City was an education in itself. One of the first things I learned to do was to identify what a rat looked like. One day I chased what I thought was a cat down an alleyway. I was hoping my mom would let me keep it. I knew we had a mouse in our apartment because I asked my mom, “What are these little black beads?” She said, “They are little presents from our friendly mouse we were sharing our little apartment. Though, we shouldn’t touch them.” Anyway, when I finally cornered the rat, my mom had caught up with me. She screamed “Rat,” she grabbed my hand and she pulled me down the alleyway back to the road. She kept making involuntary shivers as we walked the rest of the way home. She promised me as soon as I was old enough to clean the litter box, I could get a cat. I started to learn what it was like to be a parent at eight years old. I could see why my dad would get so frustrated with my mom. My mother’s problem with having no concept of time at all, drove me crazy. I had witnessed it since I was little but it went to an whole other level when we got to New York. I was left at school so much the teachers had my mom’s phone number on automatic speed dial. After the first week of fourth-grade my teacher would call my mom before school was out every day to remind her to pick me up. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die every time my teacher called her because she looked straight at me. I thought if I weren’t a good student, she might have been mean to me during the school day. Instead, she would just look at me like, “why do I have to do this every day.” By fifth-grade I was starting my third school and we were in our third apartment. We could afford to live near mom’s school. The best part was I had real walls that went all the way up to the ceiling. Mom was having so much success in selling her art we were moving up in the world. Mom taught by day and worked at night; sometimes it was the other way around. She realized she was having so much success selling that she could tell the school what classes she wanted to teach. The students loved her and her classes filled up first no matter what time she was teaching. I have to admit I was proud of my mom when we would meet one of her students while we walked around the city. They would gush all over her. In turn my mom would gush all over the student telling him or her they were doing a great job on the piece they were working on. I knew we were staying in that apartment when my mom started to make friends with the people who lived there. When she would let me go down the hall to my friend’s apartment, I knew I was in a safe place. We even had a doorman that my mom would ask how he was doing and how his family was. He was adorable. He looked like Santa Claus. She started to pay my friend Leah’s mom to take me to school and bring me home about halfway through fifth-grade. That made my teacher very happy. Actually, I was happy. That ended my days of me starting the morning trying to get my mom to get up and dressed, which always ended up in a fight. Now I was being dropped off at school on time, which was fifteen minutes before I was supposed to be there. Leah’s mom liked to be early. She was always waiting outside the door of our classroom when the bell rang at the end of school. Leah and I would do our homework together while her mom would make dinner. Oh, the smells that came out of her kitchen would make my stomach growl. I wished my mom would learn to cook. By the end of the school year Leah’s mom was packaging up a little food for me before I went home. This was how I learned all about Indian cuisine. I learned I loved their food. My mother ruined my life…again #3 my mom can’t cook like other moms I complained to my mom that she didn’t know how to cook and should take lessons from Leah’s mom. On my birthday that spring my mom gave me cooking lessons from Leah’s mom. I learned how to make all kinds of things but Naan was my favorite. There is nothing like smelling fresh bread baking in your house. Don’t get me wrong, the smell of Dal Tadka (a lentil dish), Butter Chicken (has the same profile as tikka masala though different), Matar Paneer (a fresh cheese and pea stew that has an explosion of flavor) makes both my mom’s and my stomach growl. When my mom smelled samosas, she would usually be standing behind me as I was taking them out of the oven. The delicate pastry filled with spiced potatoes, onions and peas make for a mouthful of goodness. My mom told friends that was the best gift she had ever given me. I found my first love, cooking Indian food. Living in New York City was exciting and fun. I would downplay it when I was with my dad because I didn’t want him to know I loved living in NYC. Once a week my mom and I would do some kind of excursion in Manhattan. Central Park was a regular occurrence. There was so much to do in Central Park from age 8 until I left, it never got old. We went from seeing puppet shows and playgrounds to seeing concerts in the summertime where we saw new bands. I loved it when my mom and I would get dressed up to eat lunch or brunch at the Boat House. My favorite was when we would get a table at the railing looking out onto the lake. These trips made our time together more special. The things we did from day one until we left were go to Central Park Zoo and walk through the butterfly gardens. Both of these things we did with so much enjoyment. Much later than it should have been I stopped chasing the butterflies. I had so much joy seeing them fly around, it was magic. My mom painted a huge butterfly on my bedroom wall in each apartment. I was so excited watching the butterfly emerge from the white wall as my mother painted it. Each time the painting was different. I didn’t care, I just couldn’t wait until it was finished. I was always sad when we had to paint over the butterfly when we were leaving. I have to say sometimes I cried. I wasn’t sure why I did it because each move was to a better place and my mom would paint another beautiful butterfly on my wall. I might have a problem with change. Moving was always an ordeal, having to paint all the walls white and usually removing paint from the floors. Mom didn’t care for white walls at first but learned they were great canvases or backgrounds for her paintings. Another of our pastimes on the weekend was finding a new place to eat. Both of us enjoy our food. We went to all the international festivals around us. Sometimes we even left Manhattan to go to festivals in the other boroughs. We could tell you all the best places to eat. My mom was always drawn to festivals that had color and art. I felt like she was always in a search of the next inspiration while we were together. The funny thing was most of what inspired her was in our own backyard, Central Park. She painted a series of me on the merry-go-round that hung in our living room. My favorite one she gave to my dad as a present from me. He has it hanging in his living room. Sometimes my mom is the best until she ruins my life…again. My mother ruined my life…again #4 My mom can’t even pay the bills In sixth grade my mom was doing so well selling her art people started to recognize her when we were out in public. Her life got busier trying to meet the demand for her art. My life got busier because I had to start looking around our house for checks when bills were coming in past due. When the cable went dead and I couldn’t watch the cooking shows that really pissed me off. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as my grandma would say. I had to confront my mother when she walked into the apartment. My mom said, “I know we have the money somewhere.” The next morning, we both spent the day going through everything in our messy house looking for checks. We found checks in the most absurd places: in the coffee container, under a package of deli meat in the refrigerator, in a magazine from a month ago. When I found one in the place where we keep the toilet paper, I made fun of her. This was when mom decided that we should clean as we looked. I wasn’t thrilled with the cleaning part. My room was already cleaned. I liked living in an orderly home but my mom was a slob and I didn’t want to clean up her mess. I thought after a while she would clean it up. I didn’t realize I would be cleaning it up after all. When my mom found one of my books next to the couch, she walked it to my room to put it away. I had been reading it there when I was waiting for her to come home for dinner the night before. I forgot I had set it down when I went to get dinner on the table. She called me to my room. I remember this conversation like it was yesterday. “Emma, Emma come here now.” I thought she had found something terrible in my room. I came running. “What’s wrong?” “Look at your room,” she said with such excitement. “Again, mom, what’s wrong with it?” “It’s clean.” “I know.” I didn’t understand what was the problem here. “Do you always keep it this clean?” “Are you just noticing that my room is clean? Mom, you are unreal.” I couldn’t believe my mom and her observation. I thought being an artist made you observe everything. Well, her observation of how clean my room was gave me the job of cleaning the whole apartment. It took some negotiations but I got a new laptop that I wanted, my allowance was doubled, and my favorite thing was I got a clothing allowance. My mom got someone to clean her house. This was when I decided that I should take control of her finances as well. The first thing I did was easy. I just started to make deposits. On my new computer I set up her on-line banking and put as many bills on autopay as possible. After a show, my mom would hand me all of her checks. I had to ask her weekly if she sold anything so I could collect the checks. I would deposit them using my new phone – something else I got in the deal. I had to call my dad to ask him how to do most of this and he started to put his child support checks in automatic deposit. My math skills got so much better after learning how to balance a checkbook. My dad said I had to balance the books every month. I thought that step was unnecessary but I did it to please him. I soon realized that mom was making a pretty good income. She was making more money selling her art than she was teaching. We were spending way less than what mom was making. Dad told me about buying a certificate of deposit with the extra money. I tried to have her meet with someone to invest in stocks but my mom wouldn’t make the time. Knowing our finances put me in a good position to negotiate for the high school I wanted to attend. I was so excited when my mom agreed to one of the better high schools. I met so many kids from all over the world that I was in heaven. I was getting just as much of an education out of school as in school. I was making friends that had moms that really knew how to cook. I didn’t go around asking if their moms knew how to cook. It was just a happy coincidence. These moms were happy to show me how to cook their national food. Sometimes my friends and I would learn together, which made their moms happy I had come along. I was becoming an international cook. My mom and I were enjoying food from Thailand, France, Spain and Russia. My dad was afraid I was spending too much time cooking and not enough time studying. He searched for a bunch of workshops and summer programs that were in math and science for me. I agreed to attend them when I visited him in Kansas City. He had moved closer to work the summer before. I liked that he was living in Kansas City because I could still visit my friends in Liberty. I enjoyed my summer programs that I took after my freshman year in high school. I showed my dad that I was still smart even though I learned how to cook. He enjoyed my fresh French baguettes just as much as my mom. He couldn’t wait until it was cool enough to eat. He also enjoyed the milder Indian food I would make for him. He didn’t like the spiciness of the Thai food that my mom and I thrived on. My sophomore year in high school I learned all about love. I met who I thought was the love of my life, Nathan. We didn’t live far apart so we saw each other all the time. My mom liked Nathan and didn’t mind him spending time over at our house. He became a valuable person in her life when she realized that he could move her sculptures or canvases with so much ease. My mother ruined my life…again #5 My parents can’t stay in one place My dad threw me for a loop one day. At the end of the school day, he called to tell me he was moving to San Francisco, California, in a couple of weeks. I didn’t know what to say. All I could think about was no more seeing my friends in Missouri and no more seeing my favorite little big town of Kansas City, Missouri. It was such a reprieve from the noise of New York. I was so mad at him I ended the call. He called me right back and I wouldn’t answer. He started to text me thinking I would read them. I read them, but I wouldn’t – I couldn’t answer them. I just needed time to think about it and I knew that it wasn’t very nice. I just wanted to punish him for ruining my summers. What was I going to do in San Francisco? I wouldn’t know anybody. Mom got home in time for dinner. I was a little surprised because she was on time. I had texted her that dinner would be ready at six. I didn’t get a reply though to be honest I usually don’t. As I have stated before my mom was not very computer savvy and she thought her phone was a computer. I made the mistake of telling her the phone could do most things a computer could do so now she was more afraid of it. She does answer it when I call most of the time…if she can find it. We sat down to dinner with Nathan. He has been here all afternoon listening to me whine about my dad moving. Once he asked me if I was crying because I was unhappy or because of the onions I was chopping. I made my favorite Indian dish, butter chicken. It is my comfort food. It was the first dish I learned to cook and it comforts me to make it. I saw a lot of Indian dishes in our future. “Mom, did you know about dad moving to San Francisco?” She is trying to get the spicy potato samosa all in her mouth. I tried a new recipe I saw online that makes them into cone shapes. After seeing her try to eat it I thought I would go back to my standard way of making them. I did like the flavor of them and would make that filling again. “Yes, he told me he was going to call you today.” At least, she had the decency to cover her mouth as she talked. Well, that kind of pissed me off. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Don’t get mad at me young lady. It is not my place telling you what your dad is doing. Would you like it if I told Nathan something about you before you had the chance?” “Ms. Shaw, don't bring me into this discussion. I am a simple guy getting a free meal,” Nathan said with a big smile. “Okay, Mom, I get your point. I am still not going to talk to him for a while. I was going to have him teach me how to drive this summer. There is no way I want to learn how to drive in a big city.” “Honey, why do you want to learn how to drive? We don’t even own a car. You don’t want to drive around here, do you?” “No, I want to be able to drive out to see my friends in Liberty.” “Oh,” mom’s tone was sad, at least. Mom took a bite of butter chicken and smiled. “Just think of all the new things you will see in California. Just think about all the different kinds of food you will be able to try. I have always wanted to go to San Francisco. Let’s go see where he is moving to together.” I have heard about going on vacations before with mom and they never happened. I was wondering if this was one more of her dreams that wouldn’t come true. It would be nice to go on a vacation with her. Dad wasn’t into food as much as mom was so going to a restaurant with him lacked excitement. When mom and I went to a restaurant, it was an experience. Every day my dad texted me and I ignored them. It had been two weeks since dad had told me that he was moving. I wish I could control my parents. It was so frustrating when they did unexpected things. I thought my mom was trying to lift my spirits by taking me to the Boathouse for brunch. Little did I know it was another thing that would happen that would ruin my life. Mom and I were walking to the Boathouse for brunch. They had only been open for the season for a few weeks. We usually didn’t go there for the first couple of weeks because everyone who misses it would be there. It was a beautiful spring day and we were enjoying the walk. My mom seemed a little more preoccupied than normal. I just chalked it up to her show next week. We shared everything we ordered. The waiter didn’t seem happy that we were sharing the appetizer of a lump crab cake. When he brought us the crab cake, we were ready to put in the rest of our order. We decided on a Greek salad, followed by the scallops with cauliflower risotto and for dessert cheesecake with macerated strawberries plus we were getting two apple turnovers to go. Mom suggested the turnovers would be good for a snack tonight. We could heat them up and serve them with vanilla ice cream that we had in the freezer. I have not made pastries yet. I thought pastries were hard to make. I did make some cookies but that was as far as I had delved into the pastry world. We were working on the cheesecake when my mom stopped and just stared at the lake. I couldn’t tell if she was wanting to quit or lost in thought. I finished my half and she was still staring out though she had become fidgety in her seat. That was a sign that I knew something was up. “Mom, what is the matter? I know there is something you want to tell me I am not going to like. Just spit it out so I can deal with it.” Mom looked at me with so much apprehension it scared me. What she had to tell me was really going to upset me. It was my turn to get all fidgety. I couldn’t sit still and my mom reached out and took a hold of my hand. “I have some news that is exciting; nevertheless, you are probably not going to like it at first.” I pulled my hand away. “Please don’t shut down until I tell you everything. This is a huge honor for me and I think this will be good for you too.” “Mom, please just tell me.” Her drawing it out was making me nervous. “Okay,” she took a deep breath and I prepared myself. “I have been given a Fellowship to the Academy of Art in Florence.” “How long will you be gone? I can stay with Maria.” I didn’t understand why she was so nervous. “It is for two years,” she said looking down into her lap. “I am sorry but we both are moving to Florence, Italy. I will be working on my MFA in studio art at the Academy of Art.” Mom tried to reach for my hand and I scooted my chair back. “I can’t believe this!” I was almost shouting. “I can’t believe you are ruining my life again! Do you ever think about me and my life? I have a great school. I can’t leave my friends. What about Nathan? You ruin everything.” With that said I pushed my chair back so fast that it fell over. I didn’t even pick it up. I just walked out of the restaurant. I saw a few people who were staring at me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t understand why she needed a degree when she was making so much money selling her art. She had an art exhibit a couple of times a year. She was very prolific in her art. She had no life besides art and having dinner with me most days. Our dinners had become a regular thing since she made a studio in our apartment. She would paint while I made dinner. It was like we were working on our own art together. We sat and talked for an hour or two about what I was doing or what Nathan was doing. His parents let him eat dinner with us three days a week. I really liked that time of day and I thought she did too. I knew she liked it because sometimes she was working on a painting or a sculpture for a show and she would still sit with me for a couple of hours. Our excursions around town were limited since I had a boyfriend. I thought the dinners were making up for the time we would have spent going around town. Sometimes I would talk Nathan into joining us on an excursion that my mom said we just had to go on. Mom didn’t seem to mind that Nathan would come with us. My mom caught up with me just as I got to our street. How could she leave this place? So many people would give anything to live in Manhattan. All the museums, theaters, restaurants, cultural events and if you like sports we have that, too. “Emma, let’s talk about this. You will love Italy.” She was out of breath. She still had to wait for the bill and the apple turnovers. I would not talk to her. She had ruined my life again. It had been a couple of weeks since dad told me he was moving and now this. I wouldn’t want to live in San Francisco, but did I really want to live in Italy? “Emma,” my mom touched my arm and I yanked it away from her. “Emma, you have always wanted to learn how to cook Italian. Now is your chance to learn in Italy.” Shoot what do I say to that? I really liked this idea of learning to cook Italian in Italy. How cool would that be? I decided to give my mom the cold shoulder for a while until I could figure things out. That was the worst day ever. I didn’t want to leave my school or Nathan. How was I going to tell Nathan the news that I was leaving for two years? I baked his favorite chocolate chip cookies and took them over to his house the next day. I was in pretty good spirits after sleeping on moving to Italy. It could be a cool experience. I felt lucky that I was finishing out the school year so I had about a month to say goodbye to everything I loved. Nathan knew I had bad news as soon as he opened the door. I had a huge bag of cookies for him. I had never given him that huge of a bag of cookies before. We discussed our situation for an hour while eating a large portion of the cookies. We decided to give the long-distance relationship a try but he didn’t seem thrilled about it. Nathan never really said he loved me but I knew I loved him. In getting ready for Italy, Mom had asked Peter, our neighbor, if he would give us Italian lessons. Peter told us all the places we should go for a good gelato. He had lived in Florence for a couple of years and assured me I was going to love it. When we weren’t taking lessons, Italian music was being played in the apartment. I had taken Spanish for six year and was pretty good at speaking Spanish with my friend Maria’s family. Her mom was the one who taught me how to cook Spanish food. She didn’t speak English very well so I really picked up what I had missed in school. My freshman Spanish grade went from a C+ to and A+ after the first semester. Learning Italian was much easier than I thought it would be since I had a great concept of the Spanish language. I actually was liking the thought of moving to Italy more. Was I going to tell my mother that?...no way! My mom on the other hand was having a terrible time picking up the language. She was combining English and Italian half the time. Another reason why I had a short fuse with her was I couldn’t deal with her attention span when we were having the lesson. I just knew she was not trying. I didn’t have patience with people who didn’t try their best. She tried to compliment me by saying my attention to detail was what made me a great cook at sixteen. The week before we left for Italy my mom and I flew out to California to see my dad. I thought my mom wanted to see where my dad was living. It was nice to play like we were a family again. We did all kinds of touristy things San Francisco had to offer. We took a boat to Alcatraz, toured Chinatown, went to Fisherman’s wharf, rode the cable car, and went to the zoo. It was hard not to compare the two Chinatowns nevertheless I thought both of us liked San Francisco better. Even though New York’s was bigger and we are more familiar with it, there is something special about San Francisco’s Chinatown. It was the first time we had spent this much time together since before the divorce. What was I saying: I didn’t ever remember spending this much time together. Neither of them were working and there was no fighting, it was a very pleasant time together. It was the only time since my mom made the decision to move that my behavior was pleasant. Yes, I was being a drama queen. I was thankful that I had parents that understood me enough to let me work out what I was dealing with before they intervened. My mother ruined my life…again #6 Moving to Florence Italy The day before we left for Italy Nathan’s parents threw us a going away party. It was very nice of them. They had been letting Nathan spend as much time as he wanted at my house. Saying goodbye to Nathan was the hardest thing I have ever done. I just knew my life was over. I cried myself to sleep that night. Nothing my mom said or did would make up for her moving us again. I had made sure my mom knew that over and over. In the morning when we got on the plane my mom was surprised that I had bought us first-class tickets. I knew the finances better than she did. Besides, I made the reservations and I didn’t feel like flying to Florence sandwiched between a bunch of people. I thought a little of me wanted to make my mom pay for moving us to Italy. I knew I should have been nicer; I just couldn’t make myself. On the flight I made us practice our Italian. I had my mom ask for her drinks and her dinner order in Italian. The flight attendant complimented her on her pronunciation but I knew he was being nice. When I ordered you could see he thought my pronunciation was so much better with how he nodded his head and smiled at me. Mom patted my hand and told me that I was going to have to do all the shopping when we got to Florence. I thought, what was the difference? I did all the shopping when we lived in New York, well that was the way I felt. Funny thing was when we were moving to New York from Missouri I told my mom I was never going to forgive her for moving us to New York. While I was sitting on the plane, I was feeling I would never forgive my mom for moving us from New York. I loved New York, it had so much to offer. We were moving from one of the best cities in the world to a small town in Italy. What was I going to do with my time? My mom assured me that Florence wasn’t that small; it had over 300,000 people. It couldn’t be that small, right? I had made hotel reservations near the Uffizi Gallery. Again, my mom was surprised that we were spending over $200 euros for a hotel room. She reminded me that our money would have to last us for a couple of years. I told her that we weren’t staying at the hotel I picked out first, that one cost over $600 so she should be happy. I also told her that I knew she would be selling her paintings over here so I was not worried. I was not sure if it was that I complimented her on her ability to sell her paintings or that I said something nice to her. She got all teary eyed and gave me one of her hugs that I had declined since it came out that we were moving. She didn’t let go until minutes after I started hugging her back. I had not said two nice words to her for a month and I was missing our daily night time hugs. I had never gone to bed in my life without a huge bear hug until a month ago. I have a dilemma going on in my head; do I forgive my mom for moving us here or do I keep giving her the cold shoulder? I missed my hug at night. I missed our talks; I missed Nathan right now probably more. I would have to think about how long it will be before I give in and forgive her. Florence wasn’t as crowded as New York, nevertheless it was a noisy city. The street our hotel was on was relatively quiet but when we walked in Piazzale degli Uffizi the noise got louder. I ordered tickets for us to tour the Uffizi tomorrow. I told my mom the reason we were staying in that hotel was because I knew she would spend all day in the Uffizi and I wanted to be close to our hotel. I knew I wouldn’t be able to spend all day at a boring museum. I had been to many art museums and art shows to know I couldn’t handle an all-day event. The truth was I didn’t mind museums. It was the lectures I received about how important the piece of art that was before us. I might have looked at it for a few minutes but with mom we would stand for a half hour while she lectured me. On our first day we just walked around until we got tired. We stopped for a snack from a bakery or got a gelato and sat in some piazza and people watched. Just walking around town, I felt like I was walking in a museum. I was beginning to melt just like my gelato on this warm summer day. I was beginning to like that we were in Italy. I knew my New York friends were jealous that I was going to live in Italy. They said it wouldn’t be long and I would have an Italian boyfriend. I have been told over and over how pretty I was by mom but when my friends started telling me I was pretty I started wanting to believe it. I knew my mom was beautiful because I noticed all of the men staring after her as she walked down the street. She didn’t notice men. Her art was her love. I didn’t know how she could stand being alone all the time. I enjoyed kissing Nathan. You couldn’t kiss a painting. Well, you could kiss a painting but it wouldn’t kiss you back or touch you. Sometimes when Nathan would touched me, I would get all tingly. I liked that feeling. You could tell mom and I were mother and daughter but I got my dad’s brown eyes while my mom had striking green eyes. They were so much prettier than mine. My hair was curly brown. The same color as my dad’s but curly like my mom’s. My mom’s hair was a coppery auburn and it was long. At least she took care of it now so it wasn’t covered in paint or worse, clay. When I started using a conditioner, she started using it too. Both of us needed a conditioner to have nice hair. Yes, I was influenced by commercials. We were always changing what we had in the house when I started taking care of things. I made up the grocery list so that was what we bought. I wonder if TV will influence me here. With the help of Peter, our New York neighbor, and his connections here I was able to set up a realtor to show us places to rent the day after we saw Uffizi. I was giving my mom and me time to adjust to the time change and making sure I wouldn’t have to pull her out of the Uffizi to look for places to live. I was surprised that she didn’t want to go there the minute we got off the plane. I thought she was doing pretty good just walking around the town. My stubbornness was making it difficult for me not to talk to my mom. My curiosity won out. I had to talk to my mom because I wanted to know where she wanted to live. “I thought it would be nice to live close to the school but I don’t know if we can afford to live in that neighborhood. What do you think?” Before I could answer she added, “I could come home when you have dinner ready very easily if we lived close to the school. Maybe even having lunch together” Before she went any further trying to make me want her around I said, “What I found online; I think we can afford to live here way cheaper than we lived in New York.” “You and your computer. One of these days you will have to show me how to use it.” I couldn’t believe my mom still didn’t have a computer. It was crazy. I kept telling her to join the 21st century. I finally got her to use a cell phone just a couple of years ago. Over and over I told her she could use her phone as a computer and search for all kinds of things but I was just lucky that she managed to call me on it. I couldn’t tell you how many times she had swiped down to ignore my call instead of swiping up to answer my call. I had to call her back sometimes two more times before she remembered to swipe up. I started to text her to tell her to swipe up when she had swiped down more than twice. Yes, she has learned to text though she wasn’t great at that either. Lately, she has been texting me more. Thank God for that. “Mom, I am sure you will be selling your paintings here so I don’t think we will have to worry about expenses. Plus, you still have quite a few paintings and a couple of sculptures in the gallery back in New York. They will automatically deposit the checks into our account.” My mom linked our arms together. “Have I told you lately, how I am so lucky you are in my life?” “Yes, but it’s always nice to hear it over and over again,” I smiled at her and leaned into her. “I don’t know what I would do without you. You are my joy and my life. Without you I would be nothing.” My mom gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You haven’t let me paint you in a long time. You should let me do a sketch of you in one of these piazzas.” “Mom it would be piazze,” frustrated that she was butchering the language. “Sorry, they are going to hate me here.” “You have to concentrate or you will never learn the language.” I had said that more than once. “I can say pasta so why don’t we find a quaint trattorias and get something to eat.” I just cringed when she said trattorias. “Sorry, I will try harder.” My mother ruined my life…again #7 My mother has tunnel vision We were walking down a beautiful little street that not many tourists were on. I had heard so much English walking in the streets I wondered if we were in Italy. Mom and I loved the touristy areas but we were trying to see where people who lived here walked and ate. I saw ahead of us this little trattoria with a few tables outside. “Here is a place, do you want to eat outside or inside?” “It’s so cute out here but isn’t it a little too hot to sit in the sun? I think this place would be perfect to sit outside when the weather is a little cooler. I have no idea when that will be.” We walked in and as usual all the heads turned to look at my mom. I was used to it but every once in a while, I wished we could go somewhere where she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the room. We were seated at a table close to the door and close to the counter that looked like a little deli was set up. I watched as people waited in line at the counter for layers of meat so thinly sliced and layered on waxed paper. Then they were packaged up so neatly. I wondered what the meat was. The man behind the counter had run out of the meat he was slicing and pulled a big hunk of meat off a hook hanging from the ceiling. Hanging from the ceiling all along the wall behind the counter were what looked like pigs’ legs. I had to ask the walking us to our table what do you call that meat the man was slicing. I learned they called it prosciutto. I have had prosciutto in Italian restaurants but had never seen that it came from the leg of the pig. Our waiter came up to our table and asked in Italian if we wanted a glass of Chianti. I responded in Italian that it was too hot for red wine. We would like the house white. The man behind the counter burst out laughing. My mom was kind of lost in what was going on. She politely laughed. The man came out from behind the counter and brought my mom and me a cold glass of his white wine. When he set a glass in front of me my mom got all flustered. “She is too young to drink.” I was kind of thinking I was really going to like living in Italy if they were going to let me drink wine. The man seemed a little apologetic putting his hand on his chest, “I am sorry ma’am. Here in Italy, we start drinking wine at a very young age. I can add some water to it if you like. Though your friend here looks old enough to drink to me. Especially when she orders it correctly in perfect Italian.” He looked at me and winked. I thought I found my first friend in Italy. “I guess it’s okay if it’s not illegal to serve her. Emma, do you want to try it? Please tell me this is your first-time trying alcohol.” “Yes, mom, I haven't had any alcohol before.” I winked at the man still standing there. We exchanged smiles…my heart fluttered. “Well, this is a special occasion. It is our first meal of many in Italy. Thank you, sir.” I thought my mom was wondering why the guy was still standing at our table. I thought she was trying to dismiss him with the thank you, sir. “Oh, I am Lorenzo. This is my place. May I make a suggestion for your lunch?” His English was perfect and I could listen to him all day long. His accent sent goose bumps up my arms, it was so intoxicating. I didn’t know if my mom noticed that he was as dreamy as Doctor McDreamy. She was too busy looking around the place. I was sure that she would paint a picture that would make this place look better than it does at this minute. “Yes, sir. I would like a suggestion.” I thought I should say something since my mom was too busy taking in the room and drawing it in her head. No wonder she didn’t date. She never saw the guys gawking at her. “Oh, yes, please help us decide.” Good, my mom was back with us. “We make the best pappardelle with wild boar in Tuscany. Although it doesn’t quite go with your wine choice, it is delicious if I say so myself.” My mom started to say, “Well..” letting it hang in the air. You could tell she was trying to think of how to word her next sentence. I have seen that face many times in my life. Lorenzo interrupted her. “Please don’t tell me you two don’t eat carbs. You Americans come to Italy and you don’t want to eat carbs. Italy is made up of carbs. We are known for bread and pasta.” He would have continued on his tirade but my mom was tired of it. “Excuse me, sir, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to serve us your pasta because we were drinking white wine.” My mom sounded as huffy as he just did. You could see Lorenzo went pale in a flash. He started to stammer when my mom cut him off. “Well, we don’t want to cause an international incident so are we allowed to have pappardelle al cinghiale con vino bianco?” “Si, Si, of course,” as he bowed his way from the table. “Mom, I can’t believe you.” “Did I say it correctly? I just love that word.” “Mom, you said it beautifully. I was very impressed. When Peter told us to order cinghiale I wasn’t sure if I wanted to try wild boar. I can’t become a chef if I don’t try everything, right?” “Are you sure you want to be a chef?” She saw my look and she made up for it with the comment. “Honey, you are the best chef I know but you will have to work when everyone is off. Everyone wants to go out on holidays, weekends, and nights. It’s hard work. Plus, your dad will go ballistic when he finds out you want to do something creative instead of finance.” She gave me the biggest smile. I was not sure if my mom was smiling because my dad would go crazy or if she liked that I was creative. “Mom, right now I think this is what I want. I like languages too. So, you never know. What I do know is I have to learn how to cook Italian now. When do you think I can take classes?” “I am sure you will be able to find a class somewhere soon. Have you looked on your computer?” Oh my God, she has no idea about the internet. I really wonder if she thinks my computer has all the answers. I keep telling her I have to have internet to look something up but she doesn’t get it. How could this woman not have used a computer in school? Okay, I saw I had lost my mom again. She had pulled a pad out of her purse and was drawing the restaurant. Well, I was glad I had my phone my dad gave me before I left. I was so excited that I could call my friends and text them whenever I wanted. My dad made sure that I knew that he was connected to the internet and his phone, day and night and would answer any calls I made to him. I just had to remember that there was a nine-hour difference in our time. I thought that was his way of telling me not to call him too many times in the middle of the night. I started looking at Instagram to see what my friends did yesterday. Our pasta was placed in front of us by the waiter. Lorenzo watched as we each took our hand and waved them over the pasta to take in the smell. I heard my mom’s stomach growl at the same time mine did. She must have heard mine because we both burst out laughing. Lorenzo came running out from behind the counter. “Is there something wrong?” “No, it smells so delicious. We both are excited to try it.” I looked at my mom and she gave me a smile. I knew she was pleased with my answer. “Can I put this on Instagram?” I looked at Lorenzo. “Sure, go ahead.” “Can I put you on to show my friends?” I thought I embarrassed him. “Well, I just made the sauce. Do you want the woman that made the pasta to come out? I can get her for you.” He was about to walk away. “No, this is cool. You made the sauce and you own this place! My friends will be so jealous.” I started the video with the camera on me. “I am here at Lorenzo’s and he made these pappardelle al cinghiale. We are having it with white wine but next time we will have Chianti.” I turned the camera so you could see our plates, then tilted up to show Lorenzo. He was so cute, he waved. Our attention changed when my mom said, “Oh, my God, Emma put the phone away, this is delicious.” I turned the camera on her with her mouth stuffed with the pasta. At least, she had the decency to have her hand over her mouth when she spoke. “You are going to have to learn how to make this.” I looked up at Lorenzo and he seemed very pleased with himself. I put my phone down and I twirled the pasta around my fork and took a lady size amount and put it in my mouth. I just swooned and I looked up at Lorenzo. “This is probably the best pasta I have ever had. Can you buy wild boar in the store or do you have to go out and shoot it?” He laughed. “I take it, you like the sauce too?” “The pasta is nothing like I have had before but the sauce is what makes it taste so good.” I told him. My mom had to interject her opinion too. “Sir, you are talking to a real chef here. If she is complimenting you, you should feel honored. I am not a cook. That said, this is the best pasta I have ever eaten too.” “Well, thank you ladies.” He turned to me and asked, “So you are a chef? What do you cook?” My mom didn’t let me answer. “Emma, here, can cook Indian, Thai, Spanish, French and some Russian. She has really mastered Indian, and Thai. You say Italy is known for bread though you haven’t tried Emma’s French baguette. I would put it up against all of Italy’s bread.” “Mom.” I was so embarrassed with her bragging about me. “Well, Emma, I would love to try your food sometime.” He was looking at me, not my mom. Maybe I have made a friend here. “I am not a chef yet.” I felt like I should clarify the situation though I was guessing he didn’t think I was old enough to cook. “Well, I was younger than you when I started to cook. My dad had to pull a stool up to the stove so I could reach the top to stir the pots. Don’t underestimate yourself. Obviously, your mother has good taste in food.” He turned to look at my mom and smiled at her. She was back to eating. Seriously, I was going to have to teach her manners. My dad’s mom made sure I had manners. More importantly, I was going to have to teach my mom to pay attention to men. Who was going to take care of her when I went away to college? Maybe I will have to get her a personal assistant. Lorenzo brought me out of my thoughts. “I should let you get back to your dinner,” as he walked away. I said in a low voice. “Mom, did you see him?” My mom looked up from her plate. “What?” She glanced over at Lorenzo. He was busy with a customer, slicing the ham so thinly I wondered if you could read through the slice. “He is gorgeous and you didn’t give him a minute’s thought, did you?” She looked back at Lorenzo. This time he looked up to see her looking at him. He gave her the most dazzling smile. His teeth are so white and straight. He has the perfect mouth. I bet he was a great kisser. My mom smiled back at him and raised her wine glass to him. Oh, he just bowed. He was Mr. McDreamy or, I know, I should call him Chef McDreamy. My friends were going to be so jealous when they saw my post. “Yes, I guess he is good looking but I bet he is married. Wasn’t he going to get the woman who made the pasta? I bet she is his wife.” Mom took a piece of bread from the plate and swiped it through the ragu and took a bite. “Well, that wasn’t worth the calories. This bread is blah. I don’t think there is any salt in it. What do you think?”

Dorothy or Dart is an amazing singer with perfect pitch who grows up in an amusement park.  Dart's life take so many different directions it's is hard for her family to keep up. Each possibility leads her to new heights but she can't always see what is in front of her face. Dart is lucky to have people who can help guide her to open her heart. Written by Kimberly Caristi Dorothy or Dart is an amazing singer with perfect pitch who grows up in an amusement park. Dart's life take so many different directions it's is hard for her family to keep up. Each possibility leads her to new heights but she can't always see what is in front of her face. Dart is lucky to have people who can help guide her to open her heart. Italy The flight to Milan was not as bad as expected. I thought I would be crying the whole way or whining that I didn’t want to be going to Italy. Jane was good at keeping me distracted and made sure I did everything I was supposed to do to ensure a good flight. I had only flown a few times and wasn’t a fan. Getting through the airport was a team effort, I read the Italian then Jane directed us. Renting a car in a foreign country was easier than I expected. Jane was elected to do all the driving by default. Being an inexperience driver had its advantages. The scenery kept changing and I took picture after picture through the bug splattered windshield. Seeing the difference in homes, manufacturing complexes and even the trees changed. We saw some of the most beautiful cars I have ever seen. I wanted to know why we didn’t rent one of them. Jane laughed at me saying if we could afford to rent them would we be able to pay for the tickets for speeding we would get? I was happy just taking a picture of them. The excitement built as we traveled further south. When the Adriatic came into view it was hard not to tell Jane to pull off the road so I could take a picture. Jane offered several times to pull off so I could take a nice picture. I declined the offer though secretly I wished she would stop every ten minutes. The colors of the sea against the sky made it challenging to see where the water ended and the sky began with all the different colors of blue melding together. The view was intoxicating. We decided that tomorrow we were definitely going to get our feet wet in the sea. We talked nonstop for the five and half hours of driving. We stopped once at an Autogrill for lunch and some coffee. The variety of items we could buy made it hard to say no to anything. The look we got from the cashier was very telling. We should have stopped when our arms were full. We kept dropping off items at the checkout stand and telling the clerk that we were not ready yet. We bought so much I didn’t know when we would eat or drink it all. Both of us were excited when we started climbing up the large hill where Macerata sat. That was our destination. Neither of us had ever been to Italy. What made it more intriguing was that we were staying in a medieval walled city. It was a little more exciting than I thought it would be. You could see the well-crafted walls and the city that had sprawled out from them. We were zig zagging our way up the hill and when my ears popped, I decided to tell my parents that I was living on a mountain. I could see real mountains that were alluring, large and looming in the distance. We decided that we would have to drive up those mountains another day. I started thinking that everything we said we would leave for another day was piling up. So many walled cities, castles, churches, we even saw we could easily go to another country on the way to Macerata. Now we added mountains. How were we going to get all these places visited before we leave in two weeks? Macerata day one I couldn’t keep my mouth closed anymore. “Okay, we have driven around the outside of the walls three times. This is the only entrance that we have seen someone go into the town. I say take it.” I had sat quietly as Jane drove up the little mountain to the beautiful town of Macerata and while she traversed the town. The walls that surround the historic center of town were stunning and it looked like it was new construction though it was built in the fifteenth and sixteenth century. Jane was great at research and told me so many things that I didn’t absorb. My excuse was, well, because I didn’t want to. My mind was elsewhere and I knew she was trying to distract me. The tidbit of information that stuck was about the walls. It was impressive that the town’s people kept maintaining the walls and finally settled on a permanent location for an opera house. “Let me go around one more time. This angle and the hill make me a little nervous. Even the hills where you are from don’t have turns like this.” “You fly fighter planes and this makes you nervous?” She was right about where I was from though a little farther south, the mountains did get a little higher. There they had a few of these kinds of hairpin turns. “I don’t see you driving.” I instantly backed off. She was getting testy. “Sorry. Maybe we can find someone willing to drive us into the town.” I really didn’t think it would be a big deal driving in a foreign country. I was so wrong when it came to hill towns. I felt a little relieved that we weren’t driving in the United Kingdom where they drive on the other side of the road. I was glad I had the excuse that I don’t drive a manual. “No, I am going to figure this out.” Jane was leaning forward with her facial features all pinched. Jane was gorgeous though at that moment I thought I might be the prettier one. Again, we came to one of three openings, Jane turned and drove up the hill without stalling. I clapped, “Yea! You did it.” “Now I have to find the apartment. The GPS seems happier that we took that turn.” I was a little tired of the woman saying, recalculating. Jane was not pleased with me when I said wee as we went down the hill, she back slapped my arm. Dean and I didn’t grow up shoving, back slapping or fighting. We never felt the need to do that. I have learned that was not normal brother sister behavior. Dean is my best friend. I texted him almost daily and we talked if we had more than a one- or two-line text. Jane, Adam, Pete and Bruce fought, wrestled and teased each other. That said they were all the best of friends and very protective of each other. I saw a faint number, “Oh, I think that was it. Can you back up?” The numbers were sparse on this road and that didn’t help matters when you were trying to find a place. “NO!” We definitely needed some wine when we parked this car. “There is a car behind us. I will just turn around.” It was my turn to yell, “Where?” “I am sure there will be a place.” I felt like the walls were closing in on us. Both of us were leaning into the middle of the car thinking that would help like when you go around sharp corners. Jane stopped the car, “Pull in the side mirrors.” Man can she bark orders. There was a reason why she was a Major in the Army. Well, there was no place for Jane to turn around and we were pushed out of the walls. Another turn around the outside of the walls. “Oh, I missed this road.” Jane back smacked me again. “Hey, I did. There is space here to drive. I am glad you are driving because otherwise we would have been playing bumper cars with the walls if I drove.” Well, that got a chuckle out of Jane. The second time she drove up the hill like a champ. I reached out both of my hands and gripped her arms. I laid my head on her shoulder. “Dart, get off, I need to shift.” “But you are my hero.” “Stop it. I don’t know why Adam.” She stopped abruptly. She promised me she would not bring up Adam until we were drinking a glass of wine in our apartment. We were really fools thinking I and probably Jane hadn’t been thinking of anything else but him since we got on the plane to come to Italy. “Sorry.” Well at least she said it nicely. “That’s okay. Oh, look, that must be the landlady. She opened the garage for you. Can you pull the car in?” Jane gave me a dirty look, “Please.” “Sorry.” “Stop saying sorry so much.” I looked at her. What is wrong with saying sorry? I was sorry. It must be a military thing. “Okay.” I couldn’t believe that we were staying inside the walls of the town. More importantly, I couldn’t believe the ease that Jane drove through those narrow streets. She looked calm until I said something. She easily maneuvered the car into the garage of the apartment. She took a deep breath and said, “I can’t believe I just did that.” She turned to me, “Did you see how narrow those streets were? The angle of which I had to turn to get into the garage? This car is staying here for a few days until I recover from the drive.” Again, I thought about her being in the military. You always put on a brave face and act like your job was easy. Our landlady was standing outside of the garage as we got out. She started rattling off information about the apartment and the garage. I tried to answer her when she was asking questions. I wasn’t sure she even heard me. I was glad I could understand most of her dialect. Then I translated to Jane “Yes, we were in the right place though parking will be an extra cost. If we want to park in the city garage it would cost a little less.” Jane’s quick response was, “I will pay the extra!” Our apartment was on the top floor, which was the third floor or what the Italians call the second floor. It was small, but I thought it was perfect for two. In some respects, it was bigger than our place in New York. It had two bedrooms which surprised us both. We had already said that we would share a bed while Jane was here. I couldn’t believe Adam had rented this place for a month. I walked around touching everything as the landlady told us about the air-conditioner, washer, internet and cable. The maid will come in once a week to do the laundry, floors and dust. Wow, I couldn’t believe we have a maid. I probably could clean the whole place in no time. Jane reminded me that Adam didn’t want me to have to work so that was why the extra attention. After Jane and I unpacked, we met in the kitchen to go through the welcome basket the landlady left for us. We had a local bottle of wine, some pasta and a jar of sauce, biscotti and crackers and a box of chocolates from a local candy store. There were a couple liters of water and a wedge of cheese in the little refrigerator. We had coffee, tea and local honey in the cabinet next to the stove. I was happy we had an espresso machine that we could make a cappuccino if we wanted. The kitchen was well stocked with everything we needed to cook and more. I didn’t know what a couple of gadgets were, of course, Jane knew what each item's purpose was. She would be considered a gourmet cook compared to me. I cooked very simple, though Jane could take the simplest of ingredients and make them taste like a seasoned chef spent all day on the dish. When she would visit, Adam and I would stock the house with all kinds of stuff and she would go nuts planning meals out of everything we purchased. We loved her visits. I was pretty good at picking out the wine for the meal she had planned but that was because I had a very good wine shop around the corner with a guy who knew what he was selling and what wine pairs well with the food his clients were having. I was planning on doing the same here. I knew there had to be someone here to help us with local wines. Our living room had a couch that was okay. A little too firm for my taste. I wanted a couch that I could sink into and relax. The one chair was a little better than okay though still not soft enough for me. We had a tv that probably wouldn’t be turned on and a dining table with six chairs. I thought the two of us would fit just fine in the kitchen with the table for two. The bedrooms were sufficient for our needs. We each had a full bed, a cabinet for clothes and a night stand. We each had a bathroom that was small but mine had a washer in it so instead of a bathtub shower combo I just had a shower. I did have a little balcony off of my room. It was big enough to have a chair and that was it. The bigger balcony off of the living room was enough for a little table and two chairs. I was pretty sure that we would be sitting out there all the time when we were here. The view from the large balcony was of the mountains while my bedroom view, I could see the Adriatic Sea between a couple other buildings. Jane said we were about seventeen miles from the sea. I have no idea how to convert kilometers so I trusted her figures. We had a couple of weeks before Jane had to report to her base so we were going to make the best of the time we had together. We decided that most of the time we would talk about Adam and our lives growing up while Jane was still in Macerata. We needed to heal together. I thought I needed to learn as much as I could about Adam. I had no idea if it was healthy or not. I just needed to know more. I craved more. I thought if I knew everything about Adam I wouldn’t hurt so much. That might have been a silly thing but that was what I thought. So far, I knew we had such different experiences growing up. They moved often and I never left my small community. I had friends from when I was little and she didn’t remember having a good friend ever. Her brother, Adam, was her best friend growing up. They just had this tremendous bond like my brother Dean and me. Their family could not have been closer. That was one of the things that Adam and I had in common…a close-knit family. “First things first. I need to stretch my legs.” Jane said as she locked arms with me and we headed out the door. “Let’s start by walking through town to see what is what.” The narrow roads, more like paths, that people shared with the cars took some time getting used to. The first time a car drove by I threw myself up against the wall. Jane laughed so hard she was crying. I thought she was going to pee in her pants. She imitated me by jumping and pressing herself against the wall of a garage several times until I started laughing too. Seriously, some of the cars drove so fast it scared me. Jane kept reminding me that they are only going about twenty miles an hour, but still. I thought when people were walking on the road, cars should drive at a snail’s pace. Once I almost started to cry then Jane realized that some of my shakiness came from the memory of how Adam... She came over and put her arm around me. “Dart, just because Adam was killed by a car doesn’t make all drivers crazy. These people have been driving through these streets for many years and they have great spatial reasoning. The only way they will hit you is if you jump in front of them. We have to pay attention but not freak out every time a car passes us.” She looked me in the eyes, “Okay?” “Okay” I said, shakier than I wanted. I didn’t want to be scared, nevertheless when I heard a car coming it reminded me of Adam and how he died. I got better at not reacting to cars passing me the farther we walked. Jane would say, car coming, and step to the side. Once we got to the big piazza, I was calmer. I didn't care, I still needed a drink even if it was only lunch time. Jane suggested that we have a sit-down lunch at the outdoor café and people watch. When I gave her a look she added, “and have a glass of wine.” Lunch was wonderful and the waitress practiced her English on us and I practiced my Italian. She knew I wasn’t from Le Marche and wanted to know what city I was from. She guessed I had to be from Tuscany. She was impressed with my language skills. I was honored. Jane was annoyed. She wished she could speak Italian. She had only understood a couple of words the waitress and I spoke. I would have to remember to translate the conversations better from here on out. Claudia, our waitress, pointed the way to a little grocery store where we could find the supplies we needed plus a few more treats. She also had given us directions to the local cheese shop, telling us this was the only place to buy cheese unless we found a local farmer to buy it from directly. The cheese shop would have some local sausages and salami that we should try. Claudia especially wanted us to try the Ciauscolo, it was a Macerata special salume that was spreadable like pate. It sounded interesting so I put it in my phone so I could remember the name. More maze-like roads to walk on our way to the grocery store. We saw a sign in a passageway directing us to the grocery store. Once our eyes got adjusted to the darkness, we saw another sign that directed us down the stairs to the grocery store. We were surprised when we walked down the stairs to the store, there we could see the street that we had driven on a couple of hours before. It was like a two-story house built on the side of a hill. We walked in the top floor and out the bottom level. It was fun at the grocery store looking at all the things we could buy. Jane said she would cook as we walked around the store. I could tell she was excited and obviously remembered the last time I cooked for her when I burnt the whole meal. In recent years we took her out to dinner more often. She loved to be out with us and have someone recognize me or Adam. She loved the celebrity part of our careers. I really loved performing but was always surprised that someone wanted my autograph. I was flattered that someone recognized me and wanted my picture taken with them. I was not happy when a fan would catch me with no makeup on and wasn’t dressed the best. I learned quickly when I was becoming a celebrity that I had to go out with a base of makeup on and clean clothes. No more wearing stained clothes to go to the grocery store or running into the drug store. Dinner was simple and delicious. Jane made a marinara and pasta with baked chicken. She taught me a new way of cutting a chicken and cooking it. I didn’t think I would forget her cutting off the head and the feet. I probably would forget the word spatchcock. It was cool how she cut it and put another cast iron skillet over it to flatten it. It made it cook faster, she said. She put me in charge of making a salad of lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, olives. I made a light vinaigrette dressing. This dressing has been handed down in my dad’s family for ages. It was Jane’s favorite and I was sure it would be handed down in her family from now on. For dessert we picked up a crostata filled with an apricot filling. It’s like a flat pie filled with jam. What’s not to like? We drank the local wine which I loved. I would have to look to see if we can find a Verdicchio wine from Matelica when I get home. I have had it from Jesi but it was a whole different level of white wine that I would like to explore. Jane looked around the kitchen and seemed satisfied that everything was cleaned and put back in its right place. “Okay dinner is over, let's finish the wine on our balcony. We can watch the sunset over the mountains.” “Good idea, Jane. We make a good team. Adam and I took turns making dinner and doing dishes. I like how we did it together. You are so fast and efficient I wanted to work just as fast. I couldn’t let you beat me by putting everything away while I did the few dishes.” “Ha, that was how our dad taught us. He would stand there and watch us do the dishes while someone was putting the food away and cleaning the counters and table. He would say “Pete is winning, Bruce is catching up.” It was a play by play of us cleaning up the kitchen. It was one of my early memories of him trying to get us to move fast at picking up toys to climbing walls at the gym.” “My first memory was just flashes of me under tables in a dark room. I remember looking at my bare feet and wiggling my toes. When I got older, I asked my mom, “Do you remember any reason why and what I was doing? My dad overheard and busted out laughing, he said ‘you my dear were an escape artist in your earlier life.’” Jane laughed at that. I ignored her and continued. I wanted and needed to tell her my memory because she hadn’t heard how I got my name. “My mom interrupted his laughter and gave more of an explanation, she said, yes, because your dad and I were on stage and your babysitters were all the people behind the scenes. We had taken off your shoes because we never thought about how loud they would sound while we were singing or dancing…she said it was their bad. My mom was upset that they hadn’t thought about the hard soles before buying my shoes. When they heard my shoes making such a clatter backstage, it would distract them because they knew someone was chasing me.” “My dad intervened; little did they think that taking off my new shoes would make it harder for people to keep track of me. I was so little and quick that I would dart off faster than they could say do-re-me. My dad sang it as if he were about to start a song. He will never stop singing until he dies, he says. That was when I got my nickname Dart.” Jane made a snorting sound and about choked on her wine. “You know that really fits you. I remember walking with you in New York and asking you where the fire was. You had no idea what I was talking about. I never met anyone who could walk so fast and change direction in a flash.” I sat there sipping my wine thinking of the day when they told me that story. Every time since when they would tell other people or more likely my dad would tell my story, I always knew what was coming next. I would never know if it was because he was proud of me or if it amused him. He said, “You would dart all over the grounds. We would hear stories of you showing up at a demonstration and you would dart in and around people to get the best view. Mind you no one ever minded a sweet little girl with curly black hair and sparkly blue eyes maneuvering around them to get a better look. It was the person who was in charge of watching you that people would get annoyed at.” He would always shake his finger at me when he told me this story. “Finally, the demonstrator and the babysitter would give signals that they had eyes on you.” When he told that story when I was young, he would tap me on the nose. As I got older, he would reframe because he knew I thought I was too old for that kind of attention. One of the stage hands wanted to name me Eel because I was as slippery as an eel. I was so glad that nickname didn’t stick. I realized I hadn’t finished my story, “Other people had other nicknames for me but I kind have gotten so used to Dart I don’t mind it. It’s better than my real name…Dorothy.” “You are a star. You can change it.” “I am not a star.” “I beg to differ. I have been with you when people come up and ask for your autograph. In my book that is a star.” “I am just an actress. I think a star is reserved for the movies.” We sat and drank our wine. Finally, I said, “My mom named me after Dorothy of the “Wizard of Oz.” The first time she saw the movie she knew that was what she wanted to do.” “Find the Wizard?” I gave her a dirty look even though she couldn’t see me. The sun rays behind the mountains had gone away. “I am not answering that question. When my mom made it to New York she thought it was her lucky movie that got her there. She vowed if she ever had a little girl, she was going to name her Dorothy.” “How did Dean get his name?” “My dad’s favorite singer, Dean Martin.” “Your parents are old.” “Hey, not that old, it's just that my grandpa Moretti was a huge fan and they listened to Dean Martin all the time. That was when my dad started his singing career trying to imitate Dean Martin. You should hear my dad’s impression of him. He is dead on. Do you guys have stories on how you got your names?” “Not as good as yours. I am named after my mom’s best friend. Pete is named after our grandfather. Bruce and Adam don’t have stories that my parents talk about. I think they were named after some characters in a book. My mom is always reading. I know your family has so many stories but we don’t. More likely we don’t have a storyteller like your dad. When one of us tells a story of what happened when we were kids we get into a big argument. No one remembers them the same way. Every family should have a storyteller so we can remember the truth of what happened.” “Oh, my dad can get carried away telling what happened so don’t take what my dad says as the truth until my mom agrees. Anyway, I don’t know about your family not having a storyteller, Adam told me stories about the musicals that he choreographed in your living room.” “Oh, those were fun nights. You know, even my dad, who is this big military man who knew the ins and outs of a Bradley, loved musicals. That was the only night we ate dinner in front of the tv. We would watch a musical and afterwards Dean would perform part of it. Sometimes the rest of us kids would do it with him. I guess he was our storyteller.” She paused for a moment, “Do you think drinking soda through red licorice is as good as you remember it?” I could tell Jane had gone mournful thinking that Adam was their family’s storyteller and he was gone. I was feeling emotionally strong enough to try to help her feel better. The only thing I thought about was her last statement. “Yick, I never tried it. Soda is not good for singers. Besides, I never got used to the bubbles. I do remember someone giving a bloody nose to a fourth grader.” “Hey, nobody makes fun of my brother and gets away with it. My dad made sure that we were all combat ready at an early age. We might fight with each other but we were to protect our siblings. When you move as much as we did you learn very fast who your friends are…they are your siblings. I was a girl in a house filled with boys and I never got to use the girl excuse.” “What are you talking about, girl excuse?” “You don’t know what it means? It’s, ‘I can’t do that because I am a girl.’” She said it in a very flamboyant voice. “I changed tires, mowed lawns and anything that a boy scout could do, I could do. We moved to a place that didn’t have girl scouts and my dad went to the boy scout meeting with all of us. They happened to be in a gym. My dad had me climb the rope, do pushups and pull ups then dared them to do the same. They accepted me into the group though I quit when I got my period. That was my mom’s rule. She knew that I could handle myself around a bunch of boys though when you have your period you get emotional and she knew I wouldn’t want to cry in front of anyone.” Jane leaned back in her chair. “I had great parents.” “I did too.” George and Brenda Moretti’s Story I went to bed thinking about my parents’ stories. My father was the best story teller I knew and growing up where I did, we had a lot of storytellers. He always had Dean and me mesmerized when he told our family stories. He would tell us it was hard for him to pick his favorite story to tell. He rather we pick our favorite story. The truth be told we knew his favorite one to tell was their story, my mom and dad’s story. He always got this look in his eyes like he was seeing it for the first time. The time he first saw my mom he knew he was going to marry her. When he told us their story, he would call out to my mom, “when did you know you loved me, Brenda?” She always replied, “the second after you did, George.” We didn’t seem to be the normal family, my parents had Dean and me late in their lives. Having parents that were in their forties made for Dean and me to have to say over and over, no, they are not my grandparents. When I went to kindergarten my mom was almost forty-seven and my dad was fifty-one. I didn’t know I had older parents. They were more active than most parents. They were still singing and dancing in shows at the park every day. They played games on the floor with Dean and me while not complaining about any aches or pains. I didn’t care about their ages because we were all so happy. I knew my parents' love story backwards and forwards from all the times we asked my father to tell us their story. My mom grew up in a small town in Kansas. She couldn’t wait until she could get out of her dinky town as she called it. My dad would make a face when he talked about the town she grew up in. She had started college hoping that would get her on her way out of town. One day she went to a musical that was traveling through the university system. She went backstage after it was over and asked how she could get a part in the show. The director laughed at her. My mother was not happy with the guy and told the director she could sing better than anyone in the show. The director stepped back and folded his arms and said alright, prove it. My dad always told this part with so much pride. He said my mother looked around and straightened her blazer then started to belt out this song that was so exquisite everyone stopped what they were doing and came to watch her. When my mother was finished, she turned around and started to walk off. The director said hey, aren’t you curious about what I think? My mother said no, I know I sang it perfectly and continued to walk. The director started after her, trying to get her to stop. He yelled after her I will hire you. My mother said I am not interested in working for you because you laughed at me. Dad would again puff out his chest at that point. He would say the director sent me after her to try to get her to come back and the rest was history. My dad has so much charm my mom said he could wrap anyone around his little finger. They eventually got jobs in New York City off Broadway. It took them a little longer to get there and longer to get bit parts in shows on Broadway. That was when my mom felt her dreams of being the next Judy Garland might come true. Her mother always thought that was her destiny. Grandma Berg always had my mom in dance and singing classes since she was very little. Grandma knew that her little girl had lots of talent when she would play her records. My mom could sing along and sound just as good as the record. Grandma Berg wished her little girl would not get stuck in a small town like she did. My mom invariably laughed at that part; she would say look at where we ended up. After they had been in New York for a while and the parts that mom and dad were getting weren’t the headliners they were just the second lead a couple of times. My mom was getting frustrated to the point of wanting something different. One day mom told dad that they should look for a place where they could still sing and start having a family. Dad said they were moving to Branson, Missouri faster than she could blink. For a while, he wanted a family and had been looking for a place for them to live where they could make a living and have a family. My dad’s favorite line was “the rest is history.” My father loved telling our stories. He would ask us if we were tired of hearing them but to Dean and me, they never got old. My father was such a great storyteller he could have made a living at it if he weren’t such a wonderful singer. I knew I was biased but he always had people asking him to tell a story when we had parties at the park. Sometimes if my father got carried away and was telling more lives than truths my mother would interrupt him and tell him “Hey, Pinocchio you are stretching the truth a little too much there aren’t you.” My dad would cough and he would adjust the story or say my mother didn’t know what she was talking about. Whoever was listening would just laugh at the two of them. They say you marry your father and I kind of did. My father's story was that he grew up everywhere. He was a military brat just like Adam. His father had a successful career in the Army too. I never met my grandpa and grandma Moretti; they died soon after I was born. Dad was one of three sons and he was the baby. He said he was an accident because his brothers were all so much older than him. Uncle Douglas married Aunt Martha and they have four daughters. Dad said the girls were payback because Uncle Douglas always wished that Uncle Theodore and dad were girls so he wouldn’t have to share his bedroom with them. They all live in Washington D.C.. Uncle Douglas took after my grandpa Moretti. He graduated from West Point and has a long career in the military. Uncle Theodore married Aunt Kay and they have one child Teddy. We saw them once when they traveled across the country to move from New York to L.A.. Teddy was adopted and was the biggest brat as far as I remember. He was a few years older than Dean and it seemed to us that he loved to torment us. Uncle Theodore and Aunt Kay seemed so much older than mom and dad but I think it was because they were tired of having to deal with Teddy. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on not having my aunts and uncles around because I had so many people who cared about me in the park. I was watched and cared for by so many of them that it felt like I lived in a place that was a commune of my extended family. We lived more in the park than at our own home. Our home was very small but my parents made it feel like we had the best home. We had one room for our living room and kitchen. The kitchen was set up in one corner and in the other corner was a table we used for everything from eating our meals, to doing homework, writing music, or cutting out patterns of our costumes. Our small living room housed the sewing machine, a ratty couch, two overstuffed arm chairs that had seen better days. Where most people had a television set, we had a piano. On the walls were a couple guitars and a banjo. In its case was my mother’s violin which rested on the piano. If someone played the piano it was gingerly placed on the table along with the bow case. My dad played them all except my mother’s violin. Oh, he could play it but my mom wouldn’t let him. She didn’t know that when she wasn’t around Dean and I would beg him to play one of our favorite songs. He played it with so much vim and vigor it even made Dean dance with me. Dean didn’t sing though he was a pretty good dancer. He was pretty good on his feet. My mom played the violin while she sang for her talent in a beauty contest that grandma entered her in. She would sing the most bewitching ballads and when she played, you felt like you were floating along in a lazy river. My mom could play the piano and a little guitar. Dad taught Dean and me to play the guitar and my mom taught us to play the piano. Dean could pick at the banjo but my dad made it come alive when he played it. Later I picked up the violin though I played it more like my mom than my dad. My dad built a partition in Dean’s and my room so we had our own space. My parents had given us the larger of the two bedrooms. I got the closet side and Dean’s clothes were in a dresser except for a couple of dress shirts. We were happy that we had one bathroom indoors. If anyone were desperate, they could use the outhouse in the back corner of the yard. I was not a fan of spiders or taking a chance on seeing a snake along the way out there. If I had to go to the bathroom when someone was using the inside toilet, I would just do a dance outside the door until they came out. The property was thick with trees of all varieties. I loved looking out at the trees as they blossomed in the spring. The redbuds bloomed first, which I really thought should have been called purple buds because the flowers were purple. Soon after the dogwood trees bloomed, they would fill the house with their beautiful scent. I loved honeysuckle and thought the dogwood kind of smelled like them. When the lilacs were in bloom, every day my mom would bring a new bouquet into the house. Macerata Day two: It was wonderful waking up in a bright airy room. The sheets on the bed were nice and it was hard to pull myself out of bed. I could smell coffee so I knew Jane was up. Jane said a little chipper, “Good morning sleepy head.” I looked at the clock, “It’s nine o’clock.” I said with disgust. She was acting like I slept the day away. “When did you get up?” “I was up at seven. I have already taken my shower. Wrote to my parents a letter telling them how our trip went and what we have seen so far. Go get ready so we can go for another walk.” “I need coffee and something to eat first.” As I poured a cup of coffee I eyed the crostata and decided I would have a slice of it with my coffee. I saw the look she gave me. “Tell me a story of you and Adam.” I saw it on her face that she wasn’t ready to talk about Adam. “Come on, something that made you laugh. I need a good laugh.” I made a pouty face. “I know that pouty face. Adam couldn’t resist that face. I, on the other hand, can.” Jane sighed. “Okay, you are not getting your way. I just know you need coffee before you do anything. I know you are stubborn enough that you aren’t going anywhere until you have it.” She stood there for a minute then sat down with me. “Have you heard about the time that Adam wanted to go skating?” I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. “No.” “Once Adam wanted to go ice skating when we lived in Minnesota. Both of my parents said they didn’t have time to take us to the skating rink. They thought maybe we could go next week. Well, Adam didn’t like ‘the maybe’ so he decided to flood our backyard to make our own skating rink.” I chuckled at that. If he got it in his head, he was bound and determined to get what he wanted. “That sounds about right.” “Yeah, I know. Well, while my parents were gone, he hooked up the hose to the kitchen faucet and ran it out the door to the backyard and let the hose run for a couple of hours. Bruce and Pete said they were not taking responsibility for this and went to the park to go sledding there.” “Knowing Bruce and Pete, they didn’t want to stop him because they wanted it but didn’t want to get in trouble.” I gave her a slice of the crostata. Seeing her take it made me smile bigger. She said that she was going to watch what she ate. I was corrupting her. “You are so right. Anyway, we had had snow that had been trampled down in the backyard so in those areas the water stayed on top. Adam worked the broom over the other areas. If he stopped, the broom would freeze to the ground. It was so cold. Adam wondered if he stood still would his boots freeze to the ground. If you are wondering, they did. It was so cold it didn’t take long. He couldn’t get them loose. He pulled his feet out of the boots and tried to pull them up.” “Oh, no.” “Well, his socks got stuck.” That made me giggle. “The water was still pouring out around him, mind you. Thank goodness that he had on thick socks with such exaggeration and silliness he was able to pull his feet out of the socks. I was laughing so hard I almost peed in my pants. I made him come in because I was afraid he would get frostbite. I had him wrap his feet in blankets until they felt warm.” “What about the hose?” She tapped her nose then pointed to me. “We had forgotten about the water running until we went to get lunch. Adam had to go out and chip out the hose and boots. His socks were too hard and he thought they looked cool under the ice. We had a pretty good ice-skating rink with socks in the middle of it for almost a month. Adam had to work off the hose that he ruined and some of the water bill. My parents were mad for a day then they had fun skating with their boots on. The next year my parents made a way better one. Of course, the following year we moved to Texas so no ice-skating rink there.” “You do have cool parents. Okay you did your job. I laughed a little. I knew Adam was strong willed. I guess he was always that way.” “It was obvious that he wanted you from day one and he worked his magic on you in a very short time.” I got up to give Jane a hug. I needed to hear things like that. I felt it but it was nice to hear it from someone else. I wiped away a tear. “Okay, I am off to take a shower. I am not going to wear any makeup and I am just pulling back my hair into a ponytail. I doubt if there are any paparazzi around here.” “I don’t know what you worry about, you look just as beautiful with or without makeup…and I hate you for it.” She shoved me in the shoulder. I ignored her comment. She was just as good looking as Adam. You could tell everyone took after Mr. Bailey. I could never call him Arthur or dad. It felt too weird to me. I did my best to not call him anything while Adam and I were married. They only came once to see one of our plays and it was the last one. I think it was our best play. Great, now I was crying. It was hard for me to think of what could have been. It makes me so sad. I tried to give myself a pep talk. ‘You are only thirty-two. You still look pretty good when you aren’t crying. Look at this lovely last gift your husband gave you. Walk with your head held high and enjoy it.’ I pulled the massive amount of hair back into a ponytail. My hair was starting to dry around the edges framing my face with wisps of fine curls. “You really don’t look that bad.” I really had to work on my verbiage. I needed to be more positive. It was hard to keep focused on what we were doing because everything was catching our eyes. I really wanted to get a drawing pad and draw this stunning city. We were so distracted walking that Jane literally ran into a man as he was coming out of a store. He was a handsome man dressed immaculately and Jane was speechless. He was flirting with her and she was acting shy for once. At first, I did the talking but when he realized that she didn’t speak Italian he switched to English. He gave her his card and asked her to call him. He would like to show us a little bit of his community. Jane took the card and thanked Gianluca. Gianluca turned his attention to me, “Please make sure she calls me,” then he winked at Jane. After Gianluca left Jane just shook her head, “Boy, is he pushy and a big flirt.” “I thought he was nice.” “Here, you call him then.” Jane handed me Gianluca’s business card. “You have to be nuts if you think I will call him.” I looked at the nicely designed card. I handed her the card back. “This is kismet.” “What?” “Look at what he does for a living.” I watched her face change as she read the card. “This doesn’t mean anything.” “Oh, I think it does. Jane, you have to call him to see who is right.” “Just because he is a pilot and teaches flying you think it’s meant to be?” “You’d better believe it.” Jane pocketed the card and we continued on. It took almost the whole day before she brought up Gianluca again. We bantered back and forth until she finally called him. We will meet him in the upper piazza at noon tomorrow. For dinner we had picked up a few salami, sausages, cheeses, a loaf of bread and another bottle of wine. With the fruit and vegetables that we had we made another delicious dinner. I loved eating that way because I knew there would be leftovers. Sitting out on the balcony, Jane asked when I knew I was going to be a singer. The First memories that stay with you, they become your story. My earliest memory that was more than just a snippet of time was when I was three, almost four years old. My parents were on stage and my guard lost track of me and I came out dancing a silly ballet dance that would make my family laugh. I got to the upstage left and stopped, then I curtsied in front of the audience, they started clapping. My parents were dumbfounded and stood there for a minute and my mom started coming after me and my dad stopped her. “Let her take her bow.” Then I started to sing the song that my parents were to start singing after they were done with their banter, they did half way through their set. My parents were shocked that I knew the song. Again, my mom started for me and again my dad stopped her and took the mic over for me. My dad bent down on one knee to hold the mic for me to sing into. I did a bunch of their gestures and when there was a pause in the singing the piano player, who was the music director, started playing softly while I did a not-so-great soft step that my parents did. I got a standing ovation. That memory stands out as my favorite memory of all time. I ate it up as they say. I curtsied so much that I started to get dizzy. My parents pretended it was part of the act and sang the last part with me on my dad’s hip singing along. The guard, as I named him, who was supposed to be babysitting me while my parents worked, stepped onto stage when the song ended and took me from my dad. I gave my guard a kiss in front of everyone hoping that he wouldn’t be too mad at me for running off and getting on stage. The audience made the awe sound which I thought helped my guard not scold me. The rest of the show he had me sit on his lap and wouldn’t let me down. Before my parents were finished with their set, I had all the performers coming up to tell me I did a fantastic job. When their act was finished, my parents ran off stage, my father swept me up into his arms. He was so proud of me. My mother on the other hand started to lecture me one why I was to stay with my babysitter. I think in my head there were so many things to explore I really didn’t think I was running away. I just wanted to see what was next. Going on stage was planned. I had been practicing my parents’ routine in my head all summer long. I knew that song but nobody had time for me to hear me sing. I thought I would make them all have time if I went on stage during a performance. It worked and everyone heard me. The music director came up behind them cutting off my mother who was still chastising me for running away again. Since the show was over the music director brought me over to the piano. “Sweet Dart, can you make this sound?” As he hit a key. I stepped up to the piano and hit the key he had, “There.” I backed up very proud of myself. My dad said he knew what the director was trying to do. “Dorothy,” I knew he was serious when he used my name and not my cool nickname. At least, I thought it was cool when I was young now, I just thought it was a part of who I was. Dean hated his name because some people thought he was named after sour cream. My dad said my mom should have named me after Judy Garland because I had such a magnificent voice just like her. “You know how daddy warms up his throat by singing la, la la? Do you think you can do it with me? We are going to sound like the piano, okay?” “Okay, but then can I play the piano?” Daddy looked at the director and he shook his head yes. “You have a deal though you have to sing with me as long as I say, first.” He stuck out his hand and I knew we had a deal. I sang along with my dad. I had no idea what I was doing at the time but everyone was standing around us as we sang la, la, la then we progressed to do-re-me. We ended with the song that I sang on stage. I remember all that happened that day though the faces I saw were the faces that I brought up in my memory when I was nervous about something or wondered if I could do it. It was like I was their child learning to walk for the first time or say my first word. When I finished everyone cheered and clapped. I did too, though I had no idea why they were clapping. My dad picked me up and tossed me in the air then set me back down, “My darling Dart you are more like your mother every day.” He reached down to tousle my hair. I smiled because I loved my mommy more than anything. “You not only have her gorgeous black curly hair and smile; you have inherited her perfect pitch.” He surmised that I had no idea what perfect pitch meant. “You sing as beautifully as mommy,” tapping my nose. “I sing as good as mommy?” I cocked my head, “Does that mean I can sing in the show?” Everyone laughed at this conniving little three-year-old. I was sure they thought if I were in the show, they wouldn’t have to keep an eye on me. They had been holding their breath until the director answered yes, and everyone exhaled with relief. Stan, the music director, was extremely tall and I used to call him my gentle giant. He wore black pants, a blue pinstripe shirt with black garters on his upper arms, a blue vest, a black string tie and to top off his costume, a black bowler hat. That day he knelt down trying to get to my height though he was more my mommy’s height. He tapped me on the nose, “Would you like to sing that song with your mommy and daddy?” I ran and hugged him around his upper thighs. He picked me up and I kissed him on the cheek. “Please,” again, I cocked my head, “Do I get to wear pretty dresses like mommy?” My mom stopped the laughter, “Okay little one, that is enough asking for things. I think you should take your curtain call and come take a nap.” I guessed she forgot about the deal with the piano. I knew my mom made the rules so I knew it was naptime. I was too old for a nap but every time I would lay down for a little bit, I fell asleep. If I was up, I was up and very active. If I lay down for a few minutes I would fall asleep. It didn’t have to be quiet. I could sleep through anything. That habit would prove to be useful the rest of my life. I loved singing with my parents. I got to wear the prettiest dresses with lots of ruffles and lace. I wasn’t a fan of the stuff under the dress that made my waist and legs itch. The ruffles were stiff and made my skirt stick almost straight out. When the weather was cooler, I wore tights and didn’t mind the itchy stuff underneath. I only got to sing once a week at first then gradually I got to sing more. They didn’t want to ruin my voice so I never sang anything that would strain it. Stan made sure I didn’t do anything that was too high. If I was goofing off during practice and hit a C5, he yelled at me. I wasn’t a fan of yelling. My parents never yelled at me…ever Macerata Day Three Gianluca took us to an adorable mom and pop restaurant. The husband was a character who put on a show for Jane and me. He asked us “Why are two beautiful women being entertained by the likes of this scoundrel.” He put his hands on Gianluca’s shoulders and shook them. Gianluca just smiled a bashful smile. You could see that he had been teased by the proprietor before. It took maybe an hour for me to realize I was a witness to the beginning of a love story. It was obvious that Gianluca was smitten when Jane ran into him. It took about a half hour at lunch for Jane to fall for Gianluca. I was a third wheel but the proprietor kept me company while they totally fell deeply in love. As it turned out, the restaurant owner was Gianluca’s grandparents. The meal was utterly delectable as was the wine. Nonno (he insisted that we call him the Italian word for grandpa) started teaching me all about the food from the area and the wine. During lunch when Gianluca found out that Jane was a pilot, he knew what we were doing next. He wanted to fly us all around the Marche with Jane as his co-pilot. After we had seen the charming countryside from the air, I begged that they let me go back to our apartment to rest. I said I was still jet lagged. After talking to Nonno about Gianluca I felt comfortable letting the two of them have time alone. These two were almost a better fit than Adam and me. It was hard to think about how perfect Adam and I were together. I could count on one hand the fights we had over the years and they weren’t big fights, usually misunderstandings. We helped each other be better at our craft and supported each other in our endeavors. After they dropped me off at the apartment, I waited a couple minutes inside the door. Just enough time for them to get out of sight so I could go for a walk. I knew if I climbed the stairs to our apartment that I would climb into bed and sleep. I needed to get on Macerata time so I was determined to stay up. I didn’t want to miss a second of this glorious city. I decided to walk back to the gate near the grocery store because I saw some statues down that street that I wanted to investigate. I could see five figures with columns in the background and I knew they had to be important. They were outside the walls about a couple city blocks away from the gate. I knew I wouldn’t get lost so I thought they were a safe place to explore by myself. The streets were crowded. I felt like everyone was out for a walk. I noticed an elderly couple ahead about twenty feet away being greeted by everyone like they were the most important couple. My guess was they had a new grandchild because he kept taking out his wallet to show people then they would rush off. They were on a mission to get somewhere but friends kept stopping them. I was almost caught up to them when I saw him drop his wallet. I was about to pick up the wallet when a very sleazy person started to pick it up. I had seen his type in New York and I was pretty sure that he was going to pocket the wallet. I stepped on the wallet to prevent him from getting it. We had a little argument on who was going to finally pick it up. When I threatened to call for the police, he ran like a jack rabbit into the crowd. I picked up the wallet and looked for the couple. Where had they gone? It was like they disappeared. Finally, I saw them emerge from underground across the busy street. I tried yelling for them but with all the traffic they couldn’t hear me. Damn the traffic, I wasn’t going to get across the street without being hit. I went back inside the gate of the city and asked how I could get to the other street underground. Finally, someone took pity on me and pointed out the route. I ran down the stairs and there were tunnels going everywhere. I guessed correctly. I only knew it was correct when I came up the stairs. Why were all these people out walking? Seriously, it was crazy. Everyone was window shopping and it was hard to get around them. My nickname was being validated for sure this afternoon. I was darting in and out of the crowds. I wasn’t seeing the couple though I knew they went this direction. I was checking out all the places that were open to see if they stepped into one of the stores or the enticing church on the street. It was difficult not to step in and take it all in. I was going to have to bring Jane back down here to see this colorful church. Right now, I was on a mission to return this wallet. When I got to a cross street, I thought I saw the couple going up the next street. I was having a hard time crossing that street too and looked for another underground sidewalk. Found it. I was getting tired of chasing this couple and was about to give up. I was thrilled to see them walking up the street heading for a church. I was praying that was their destination. Yes, they were walking into the church. I was thrilled I was going to be able to give back the man’s wallet. I never opened it to see if there was an address and name in it. I just thought he would want it back as soon as possible. I walked into the dark dank church. I witnessed the man’s realization that he lost his wallet. He was holding court with a group of people and I saw him reaching for his wallet then searching his other pockets. I quickly walked up to him and handed him his wallet. I was totally out of breath and first talked to them in English then realized that I needed to switch to Italian. He wanted to repay me with some of the money in his wallet. Of course, I declined. Everyone invited me to watch their rehearsal that they would be performing in a few weeks. It was not something I would have sought out but I was warm from the chase and it was a long time since I listened to a choir. I sat in the back while the group went up to the front of the church. I definitely didn’t want to be a distraction. In walked a man with a little girl from behind the altar. He said something to the little girl and pointed to the pews. Off she bounced down the aisle about five rows ahead of me. She started to go into the pew when she noticed me. I was staring at this cute little girl with a huge head of curly hair like my own. I knew I startled her because I didn’t avert my eyes. Then all of a sudden, she smiled and gave me a little wave and climbed into the pew. My attention was pulled away from the darling girl for a little bit when the choir started to warm up. I guess the little girl’s dad was the director. He had them do warm ups like I did in choir eighteen years ago. Was it eighteen years!? Time really does fly as my dad would say. The first song the choir sang was pretty good. It wasn’t too difficult though I don’t think the director was getting everything out of them as he could. The second song was a little rough. I wasn’t sure if I would sit through the whole choir practice because it might be torture by the end of rehearsal. The third song they didn’t make it through the whole song and the director was stopping them. I slipped out of the pew and thought I would tell the little girl to give the couple a message from me. I slipped into the pew behind her and I saw that she was drawing. I couldn’t help it, I made a couple of suggestions and soon realized that she wasn’t as little as I thought. She might be ten or eleven, the way she spoked made her seem older than she looked. Well, my attention was on her drawings. She was good, very good for her age. We started chatting and I moved up with her. We were in our own little world just having a wonderful conversation about drawing then life. Finally, I had to ask. “How old are you?” “Nine.” The way I said wow made her excited. “You are an American?” “Yes.” Then the questions came flying out, one after the other. Did I know this famous person or that famous person? Much to her dismay, I didn’t know anyone she wanted me to know. She didn’t know any famous people I knew. This was frustrating for me because she desperately wanted me to know someone who she thought was famous. I got off the subject of famous people and back to art. I showed her how to do a caricature of her father. I had exaggerated him with the baton in front of a suggestion of a choir. She laughed and wanted me to do one of her. I looked at her and drew one that I thought she would appreciate. In the drawing I had her sketching the five statues at the end of the road. She loved the expression on her face and the five guys even though I didn’t have the figures down right. The couple were standing at the end of the pew when I looked up. I hadn’t even noticed that the singing had stopped. Eduardo and Rosaria had come to take Francesca to the bar while her dad worked on a couple things. Francesca begged me to come with them. I was wondering why you would take a child to a bar when Eduardo insisted since I didn’t take any money from them that I at least had to let them buy me a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. I was pleasantly surprised that bars are not like bars in America. There were all kinds of pastries, ice cream, snacky items as well as a full bar and someone whose job it was to make coffee. It was a cute little bar and everyone but me was a regular. Everyone was called by name by the proprietor except me. He called me beautiful. My little group decided that they liked that idea and that was what they decided to call me, Bella instead of Dart. I didn’t think they were fans of my nickname. I was a little embarrassed though pleased that it was easier for them to pronounce. My name got caught in their throat one could say. I thought I would have one drink and leave. I loved speaking Italian to Italians. Only a couple times did I have to ask what a certain word was. Rosaria said, “You have to forgive Eduardo, not only is he an old man but he uses old words.” She saw that she had upset him and reached across the table to grab his hand. “I am older than you, my dear, by three days.” He smiled at her. “Now, please stop slipping into dialect. You are making it difficult for Bella to follow your conversation.” Rosaria patted his hand and brought her hand back to our side of the table. Eduardo cleared his throat and waved his hand a little. I didn’t have a chance to turn around to see who was coming because Francesca flew out of her chair, almost knocking it to the ground. She ran past me yelling for her papa while I got up to help Eduardo with the chair that he was awkwardly holding onto. I turned around to face papa. Papa was nice looking but older than I thought he looked from a distance. His Italian good looks had some wrinkles around the eyes and mouth which was stammering. “Are you?” was said over and over finally he got out “Are you Dorothy Bailey?” Everyone was surprised that papa knew my name though no one more than me. I was in a small town in the middle of nowhere and this man knew who I was. “How do you know me?” “It is you!” He reached out and shook my hand and shook it rather hard. He had a strong grip for a tall thin man. Under his baggy blazer must be some muscles. He pulled my arm up and almost twirled me around. “Everyone, attention, everyone this is the famous woman I was telling you about. The one who sang like an angel sent from heaven.” The whole bar started to clap. I had to say I didn’t get embarrassed easily though I knew I was probably red as a tomato. Now it seemed everyone was wanting to shake my hand. I was dumbfounded. I didn’t know what to say or do but shake hands telling everyone that it was my pleasure to meet them. I had so many questions being thrown at me I was at a loss for words. Finally, Rosaria interrupted, “Listen everyone let the poor girl breathe. She will answer all our questions in due time for now let us have a drink with Romeo.” I looked at her with such gratitude then I realized what she said. Romeo? Like Romeo where art thou? Papa’s name couldn’t be Romeo. Yes, the director’s name was indeed Romeo. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to say Romeo without laughing. I thought that it was a cruel thing to do that to a child, name them after someone like that. I had seen where people named their son Jesus. Isn’t that a hard name to live up to? Romeo and Casanova would be almost as difficult. Romeo was good looking enough but the way he looked at me with that smile made him more attractive. I’d better pay attention to what he was saying because he was so animated. “I had to go back to the play the next night because you were so good. The play was so good. Good doesn’t describe your performance. You were magnificent.” I had to stop him from going on and on. “Did you go see any other shows while you were in New York?” “The group of friends I was with weren’t really into musicals and wanted to go to clubs. I talked one of them into going to your show the first night and I went by myself the next night.” “Oh, I am sorry. There are so many plays on any given night. You should have picked another play.” I saw him disagreeing. I just had to change the subject. “Did you like New York?” “It was too loud for my taste. I have a group of friends I travel with every year and we usually go to a place where we can go hiking. One of our friends moved to New York for work so we went to see him.” I could tell by how he responded he wasn’t a fan. Maybe that was why he loved my play. I took a deep breath. It was our play. Adam’s name was under my name on the marquee. Moments like those are the times I want to crawl into my bed and forget about life for a while. Rosaria touched my arm, “Are you alright dear? Do you need to go outside to get some fresh air?” “I am fine. It must be jetlag catching up on me at the moment.” Well, that got the conversation going in the direction of why I was here and how long I was staying. We had been talking about them, not me. I was the one leading the conversation. When Romeo appeared, he directed the conversation. Seeing my play must have been a big deal for him as he told the bar all about me and the play for months after seeing it. Everyone wanted to see more of me. I didn’t know if I could handle all the attention. I thought I was going on a real vacation where I would be unknown. I didn’t think that would be the case anymore. Francesca came over to me and tried out her English. “Please, please Bella help me in my English. I want to speak English like you speak Italian. Plus, you help me with my art?” She batted those big eyes at me with those long thick eyelashes. How could I resist? “Okay, if it is okay with your papa.” We directed our attention to Romeo who was smiling this flawless smile. There was no doubt in my mind that Francesca was his daughter though her edges were softened while his face seemed chiseled by Michelangelo. Cheek bones that any woman would love to have. A square jaw, had perfectly shaped lips set above with two dimples on each side that appeared when he smiled. Any artist would love to sketch him. I knew I would. The realization that I was looking at him too much and Romeo might have a Juliet I added. “And your mamma too.” The smile disappeared on both of their faces and Francesca's head dropped. Romeo placed his arm around her and pulled her to him. “Francesca’s mom died a couple of years ago.” I started to apologize but I was cut off by Francesca, “It’s okay mamma is my guardian angel now.” She was smiling then her expression changed to a thoughtful one. “I like that she is not hurting anymore.” Everyone agreed at the table. Romeo sat back with an expression on his face that said I have an idea. “Would you be interested in helping me with the choir? I know I don’t have any right to ask you to help me. I have no money to pay you. I just thought you would be able to help them reach their potential. He put his rough hand on mine and I looked at it. Conducting a choir was not his full-time job. Romeo worked with his hands. Everyone was looking at me with such eagerness, how could I say no? “I have to check with my sister-in-law. If the rehearsals don’t conflict with our time together then I would be happy to help.” We exchanged phone numbers and I was off to see if Jane and Gianluca were anywhere to be found. No such luck. I hoped Jane was having a good time. I picked up a piadina at a hole-in-the-wall shop around the corner. The flat bread was delicious and the sparse amount of meat was perfect. In New York if you got a sandwich that was filled with as little meat as that one the customer would be yelling that he got ripped off. I thought it was just the right amount and most of all it was scrumptious. I drank quite a bit of the bottled water to help with the jetlag. I didn’t think I wanted to start drinking wine by myself though the wine I have had here, it will be hard to resist. I just got my nightshirt on when Jane came floating in. She didn’t even notice me when I came into the room. “Oh, hi.” She was blushing. How cute! Jane was usually in control of her emotions. It was nice to see she was human. “Sorry I didn’t call to let you know I would be late.” “No worries. I know when two people are falling in love they lose themselves and forget about time.” “We aren’t falling in love.” She was indignant. “Is that why you can’t stop smiling from ear to ear. If Adam were here, he would be teasing you relentlessly. You didn’t even notice I was sitting with you at lunch. At one-point Nonno took me into the kitchen to show me around and introduce me to Nonna. Did you know she was the chef? When I finally came back you two didn’t even know I was gone.” I saw her blushing again. “Nonno said right in front of you two that it was nice to watch love happening and neither of you heard him or acknowledged him.” “Well, maybe I was listening to what Gianluca was saying. Have you ever thought of that?” “Sweet Jane, why are you fighting this? It is so obvious.” Jane looked down, “Because I am afraid of admitting it because…because.” I walked over to Jane and hugged her. “Jane, go ahead and allow what you are feeling to rise to the surface. I am a pretty good judge of romance and most men. I talked to Nonna and Nonno, both of them told me that Gianluca was a very good man who had put his career ahead of love until now. Both of them saw a difference in him when he talked to you. I know I have only known him for a few hours but sweetheart he is head over heels infatuated with you. It was like watching a replay of my life and how fast I fell in love with your brother.” I took both of Jane’s hands in mine. “Love at first sight is a thing…enjoy it.” I talked her into going on the balcony to talk for a little bit about her day but I really wanted to get down to why she won’t let herself fall in love. Finally, Jane opened up to me explaining why she was reluctant. She had had a serious boyfriend…more like a fiancée. They had talked about getting married when Jane finished her schooling. They had a date picked out and the place. He just hadn’t given her a ring. One day out of the blue he said that he wouldn’t be following her to her next post. He didn’t think he could move every few years. He wanted her to quit. Jane was taken aback. She got all hotheaded talking about it. I was hoping no one could hear her. “Can you believe that he wanted me to quit? I would have to pay back all the money that the Army had invested in me the past four years of college.” She took a breath. “Come on, that was how many years ago and you are still this upset talking about it. Maybe that is what you have to work on. Trusting that not everyone you love will leave you. Maybe losing Adam brought this all back.” I could see that Jane had turned her head to look in my direction and I could hear her exhale deeply. “I am sorry. I overstepped. I have been given a lot of advice over these last few months. Maybe I like analyzing you instead of figuring out what I am supposed to do for the rest of my life.” I was glad I suggested bringing out some wine, maybe it would calm her down. Taking a sip of that crisp and refreshing pecorino wine let us both relax a little. “Okay, you might have something there. My mom said the same thing when I visited her. She was wondering if that is why I haven’t dated. I told her that I had my career that I was working on. She asked me if I didn’t want a family.” It was my turn to sigh heavily. Jane grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. I am a terrible person.” She shook my hand until I looked at her. “That’s okay.” “No, it’s not. I know that is something you wanted with Adam. Dart, maybe love is not in the cards for me. Who wants to follow me around the world?” It was my turn to shake her hand until she turned back to me. “You my dearest Jane are a striking woman who has a lot of love to give. Any man would be lucky to have you and he would be nuts if he didn’t follow you.” I meant it. Jane was a catch…attractive, smart and a great cook. Who wouldn’t find her interesting? She could fly anything to boot…very cool. “I think Gianluca could be the man. “Do you think he would follow me?” “Jane, don't worry about that now. Just enjoy the time you have together and stop worrying about what is next for you two.” “Enough about me, what did you do after we dropped you filled her in on my afternoon and then we went to bed. I heard her texting for a little while until I fell into a deep sleep.

​Ellie hasn't had an easy life.  The one solace in her life is her art.  A promise that she made to a dying friend has her working very hard on her art.  Her life revolves around her daughter and her art and she doesn't know how to communicate well with people until she meets Lorenzo in Florence.  He shows her that life can be more than her daughter and her art. My Daughter thinks I ruined her life…I did my best to make her life better. Written by Kimberly Caristi Ellie hasn't had an easy life. The one solace in her life is her art. A promise that she made to a dying friend has her working very hard on her art. Her life revolves around her daughter and her art and she doesn't know how to communicate well with people until she meets Lorenzo in Florence. He shows her that life can be more than her daughter and her art. I did my best…learning to live without my dad When my dad died when I was seven and my mom and I were left alone. I mean very alone. My dad’s parents pretty much pretended we didn’t exist. My mom made the excuse that since dad was their only child we just reminded them of their loss. I did get a Christmas present a couple of times then we never heard from them again. My mom was an only child, too, and her parents had died in a car accident before I was born. Her only aunt Mary sent me gifts until she passed away when I was twelve. She lived too far away to visit but we wrote letters. Aunt Mary was the sweetest aunt, she never missed calling us on our birthdays and at Christmas. We were the smallest family I knew. Did I think I had the saddest life? No, it was filled with paper and colors. I didn’t know any better. It might have helped that I was young or I was happy being just with my mom. My memory of my dad filled me with joy. He was funny and charming at the same time. My mom made sure that I didn’t forget him by telling me stories of their lives together before I came along. I wanted to be like him but at a young age I realized I was like my mom and proved it when I was in my thirties. I was quiet like my mother and I wanted to be just like her though I failed at getting some of her traits like being organized. I have gotten ahead of myself… My mom took in laundry and did typing to make money. She kept me busy by giving me paper to draw on while she worked. I didn’t mind; I loved it. My aunt Mary was delighted that I loved to draw so she would send me colored pencils, pens and better paper. A couple of times great aunt Mary sent me art books that I still have to this day. Those were the occasions when the great part of her name really personified her. Someone other than my mother took an interest in what I really loved. A couple of times she would call me, and we would talk about the book she sent. I loved those moments. It was the two art lovers in the world alone with our book. I knew she read before she gave it to me because I would find personal notes in the margins. My mom and I were devastated when we got the news that she passed. Aunt Mary was our ray of sunshine in this world and our only connection to our past. My mom’s reaction was we had work to do though she cried while she worked for several days. It was hard to get past my grief to see that my mom grieved too. She knew this lovely woman who took an interest in me from afar. My mom had grown up with Aunt Mary being there for her in person at all the important days in her life. My great aunt Mary was a tangible person who hugged her and did more for her than called her a few times a year. I did learn that we, my mom and me, grieve by getting to work and providing for your family. At first my mom loved that drawing kept me busy then she would get mad because I wasn’t doing my chores. To be honest, drawing would take me into another world where I could imagine anything. It allowed me to live in a magical place that I created. I turned my cat into a purple cat…purple was my favorite color. I would beg kids at school for their purple crayons because mine were usually down to this little, tiny piece that was the size of the piece that kids broke off the tip of their crayons. I never abused any of my crayons, pencils or pens. I would ask everyone who would bring laundry or pick up manuscripts if they had an extra pen or pencil I could have. My mom hated me asking for a handout though she never said, “Don’t ever do that again.” I thought she secretly was thankful, so she didn’t have to buy them. When I got to middle school my art teacher saw something in my drawings and tried to teach me some techniques that I still used in some of my art. Ms. Inmann was in the wrong place; she should have been a college professor. She couldn’t draw or paint very well because she had shaky hands. Still, she taught me to draw with so much finesse that I started to sell my drawings. My mom said I had to start making money to help pay for my addiction of wanting all these pencils and paper. I started babysitting and drawing the kids I watched. I wanted to get down drawing faces. When the parents came home and saw the drawings I would be working on at their kitchen table, they would ask for them. I would tell them that I was going to use the back because I didn’t have much money for paper, then they would offer to buy them. I wasn’t totally lying; I would have used the back. The better I got the more I could ask for my portrait work. I would ask Ms. Inmann how much I should sell them for. Soon I was making more selling my drawings than babysitting. That snowballed into me being called by friends and families of my babysitting clients asking me to draw their child, parents or a beloved pet. When I got into high school I got into paints. I had another good art teacher, Mrs. Plank. She was a beautiful woman inside and out who was always covered in paint. I wanted to be just like her. When I first met her in ninth grade, she told me that I should be a model not an artist. She told me that I could make a lot of money as a model. A couple of weeks after I started her class Mrs. Plank talked my mom into letting her take me to a couple of modeling agencies. No one asked Elli if that was what she wanted. No one even thought to figure out if this was something Elli could handle. No one thought if this was in Elli’s best interest. After all the interviews I got asked to be added to two of the three agencies that we visited. I thought the one that declined me was the only one that saw it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t the one actively trying to get into modeling. One month every weekend I went to modeling school to learn how to walk. Who knew you had to learn to walk a certain way? I didn’t. I learned great posture though my teacher said I was a natural at holding my body correctly, even though I was tall for a girl and had a nice figure for a fourteen-year-old. I learned to put on makeup that made me look older. I learned how to take care of my thick massive curly red hair. I had tried to cut it one summer when I was in second grade. My mom thought it was because I was upset that my dad had just died, and I was acting out. I just thought it was because I had fallen asleep with gum in my mouth, and I didn’t want to get in trouble for it, so I cut my hair. I had to go see the school counselor for the rest of the year and play with puppets. I suffered through modeling for almost a year. I hated it. I was thankful that Mrs. Plank noticed that modeling was not my passion. Finally, Mrs. Plank really saw that I was better and more passionate about my art than I was about modeling. When she would ask me how my modeling was going, she didn’t see me excited. She thought a young girl asked to model should be floating on cloud nine. On the other hand, when I talked about my art, I was so excited and happy she realized my true passion. One spring day she took me aside in the classroom. “Elli, you need to speak up for yourself. You have talent in front of the camera though your art supersedes it by leaps and bounds. If you wanted to, you could earn more money as a model for a while then you can paint for the rest of your life.” “I don’t want to do that,” I don’t know where I got the nerve to tell her what I was feeling. She agreed with me after a long discussion, “I guess modeling is not for you. Let’s work on your art. I will talk to your mom.” I was nervous because I knew my mom loved the money and the clothes I got to keep. I had never hugged a teacher before or since but that day I just squeezed Mrs. Plank. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will do whatever you want me to do in the classroom. I will clean your paint brushes, scrub the floor, sharpen the pencils. Whatever you want.” “Okay Elli you might regret your offer,” she smiled at me. I didn’t know if it was the smile or knowing I was not going to have to model anymore that made me feel wonderful. I didn’t care because I could just work on my art. It wasn’t long and Mrs. Plank came over to our house and had a lengthy conversation with my mom. I sat in the hallway trying to hear their discussion. Both of them were soft-spoken like me and all I heard was that Mrs. Plank thought I should give up modeling. They had to talk about more than me because they started to talk on the phone in the evenings every once in a while. My mom called me in the family room after Mrs. Plank left. It was awkward at first, my mom kept twisting a napkin in her hands then she opened up to me. She knew I wasn’t really happy doing modeling. She apologized for not telling me to quit earlier. Come to find out she thought I would fall in love with it soon because what young women didn’t like clothes and attention. She was thankful that I really never got into wearing nice clothes. Our relationship got closer that day because we started to talk about everything. She stopped worrying that she wasn’t providing all the best clothes that most teenagers wanted, and I was willing to talk openly about what I was feeling and thinking. I promptly stopped doing everything I learned in modeling school except keeping my shoulders back. Martha, my modeling coach, said it was good for you whether you were a model or not. She said I would thank her for this when I got older. I learned that if I don't keep a good posture when I draw or paint my back would hurt. When I wanted to dress up for prom and go out on a date, I did use some of the makeup skills I learned. Well, when Mrs. Plank started to just teach me how to paint it opened a whole new world for me. I loved it. Mrs. Plank was thrilled that I took to painting so fast. Freshman year we were learning how to draw with pencils, chalk, charcoal, pastels and at the end of the year we started watercolor. I was ahead of all my freshman class, but Mrs. Plank couldn’t let me advance. I just worked on better techniques. Painting with watercolors was okay but in our sophomore year we got to move into acrylic and oil paints. I was in heaven. We learned all kinds of ways to paint from abstract to impressionism to realism to pointillism and the list went on. Like I said, Mrs. Plank was a great teacher. Mrs. Plank was a champion of mine, one of the things she did for me was enter my paintings into competitions. We were always shipping this piece or that piece to somewhere in the states and a couple around the world. I won enough money to buy me canvas, new paints and good brushes plus lots of turpentine. My mom was not as impressed with the painting money coming in, it wasn’t like the modeling benefits. She was thrilled I was happier. She was always in my corner telling me how proud she was of me. The only thing that drove her crazy was I never got the hang of watching the clock. She lived by the clock. Her customers expected their clothes or papers to be ready on time. As all mothers did, she wished for me to have a normal teenage life. My mom couldn’t get past the fact that I didn’t want to go out on dates more often that I was more excited by my love of art. I read everything I could on the subject and tried to copy the best artists, trying to figure out their techniques. My English teachers commented that they wished I would find something else to write about or do a book report on. I guess it was a rare subject for them to not have read the books their students wrote about. I thought they got bored with the subject too. Mrs. Plank told me not to listen to them. She was proud that I could write as well as paint. My senior year my mom was getting nervous because I kept getting information about art schools from all over the country. I thought she was worried I was going to leave her. I kept telling her I wouldn’t leave her and that I must be getting these applications because of all my art competitions. I didn’t ask for one of them. Secretly, I thought it would be nice to get out of Missouri, but I couldn’t go without her. She was my everything. I had no one else. She worked so hard to keep us afloat. After my dad’s death things were so hard on us. I remember rubbing her shoulders as she typed. I could feel the tightness in her muscles. I did lug in the laundry detergent and the spray starch from the car. Once in a while I would throw things into the dryer for her if I weren’t covered in paint and she didn’t have to worry about stains. Anytime I earned a penny I handed it over to my mom. She usually handed it back when I needed new brushes though. She would laugh at me because of how hard it was for me to ask for money. “You know you have earned this money. Why all the anxs?” Mom said, shaking her head. “Because I am not sure we have the money at this time for the brushes.” “Silly bean, you are the reason that I am not doing as much as I did. We are a team, remember?” She put her forehead on mine. “Yes, a team.” Every once in a while I would forget and fidget trying to ask for money for paint or brushes. I did my best…to stay close to my mom I applied and got accepted to Central Missouri State University. My mom was so thrilled it wasn’t that far from home. Just before school started my mom decided to move to Warrensburg with me. I was a little surprised…well, really surprised. She thought she could get more work in a college town. We packed up our little house into a fifteen-foot moving van and had room to spare. Mrs. Plank had helped me sell all of my paintings in a show that a friend of hers had for me in her Kansas City Art Gallery. I was so nervous standing around trying to be polite to all the people who wanted to buy this up-and-coming artist’s artwork. That show paid for the moving van and the first and last month’s rent for my mom’s little house plus gave us a little nest egg. I wanted to live in the dorm and my mom was fine with that, but I was worried about having enough room in my dorm for my paintings. I knew I had my mom’s house to use if I needed the room. To help pay my bills I got a work-study job in the library. It was my first job that I got paid weekly. This was a first for me. My problem was my issue with time. I was constantly late. My boss was going to fire me after my first month, but he soon realized that I would work later than I was scheduled by way more than I was late. He finally agreed that I would work when I could. I liked working in the library because I met a bunch of people. I would never say I was shy because I could talk to anyone, but I liked it better when I was approached instead of the other way around. I was doing better not shutting people totally out of my life. I knew I had issues after my dad died getting close to people. It was very hard on me and Mom. We really clung to each other. I learned at an early age that a person you loved could be gone in a flash. I never went to bed without saying I love you to my mom and giving her a hug. Even when I was upset with how she was dealing with my dad’s death I still hugged her and said, “I love you.” I showed my friends that I cared for them every day by ending our time together with a hug. I really never had a boyfriend in high school because I couldn’t devote that much time to them. I would rather go out with my friends. I didn’t care if they had boyfriends because that just gave me more time to paint when they got preoccupied by their relationships. I used painting as my way of keeping people at a distance, never really letting them get too close to me because I knew friendship was always iffy. When my dad died, I lost several of my friends because they couldn’t handle that he was gone and how sad I was. My dad was the life of the party, and all my friends loved my dad. He always made them laugh and feel good about themselves. I learned all about it in my psychology class in my junior year in high school. I self-analyzed myself and my mom. I came to terms with my dad’s death that year, but it took me a couple of years to let people get really close to me. That was when I met Russ. Russ was a very good-looking young man with great manners and knew how to make me feel special. He would wait for me to get off work and walk me back to my dorm. He would meet me in the cafeteria and carry my tray of food over to his table where his food was getting cold. We would sit with his friends who became my friends. He bought me new paint brushes for every occasion. My sophomore year my work study was in the first-year art room. My teacher asked specifically for me. Ms. Adams saw my work in Kansas City and was excited when she saw my name on her class list. She hoped I was one-in-the-same Elli Wright. After my first drawing she knew I had to be the same artist she saw in her favorite gallery. Raven became more than just a teacher in my sophomore year. She became my mentor and advisor but most of all a friend. Raven had won several awards for her art. She was known for her paintings of people in Harlem, where she was from. I asked her once why she moved from New York to a small town in Missouri. She had followed her heart. He was the assistant baseball coach. Sometimes she wonders if she did the right thing because half of the year, she was a baseball widow. She hardly saw him. I went to some of the games with her and both of us talked more about art than watching the game. Russ came a few times and asked if we even knew what was going on. We said together “No.” Russ didn’t know anything about art. He didn’t understand why I had to draw so many things over and over. Why the painting I was working on would change from one day to the next. He would comment that he liked the yellow flowers and why did I make them purple. After a few months he stopped asking why I changed things. My work kept getting noticed by other professors. The department secretary called me Star instead of Elli. I finally told her one day, “I am sorry that I haven’t corrected you Ms. Barnes. My name is Elli.” She laughed, “I know, I call you star because you are the star of the department.” I must’ve turned as red as my hair. “Oh,” was all I said. I was so embarrassed. I did feel a little pride that someone thought I was a star of the department. My paintings were going to more competitions. I got to travel all around the United States, Canada, a couple times to Europe and once to Hong Kong. I was never so nervous in my life. Raven said if I really wanted to be an artist I was going to have to learn to talk to people and put myself out there so people would get to know me. I never asked to put my paintings into competitions. My professors were the ones to tell me I had to do this or that. I kind of liked it that way. Raven kept telling me I was falling into being a real artist instead of making myself an artist. She would get so mad at me. “You are not pursuing your art. You are letting it happen.” “I don’t know what you mean. I am taking all the classes I can. Trying everything to see what I want to do.” “If you want to get known you have to enter competition after competition. Put yourself out there and do juried competitions. Make business cards and a website for heaven’s sake. You can paint all you want but if you want to make a living you have to sell, sell, sell. One of those sells, is yourself. You have to let people know about you.” Raven was almost yelling at me. She was an intense woman for sure. “I enter competitions,” I said with conviction. “Only when one of us comes to you and says do this.” “Well, I do it. Don’t I?” “You need to do the research. Get on a computer and find things for you to enter.” “You know I hate computers.” “Well, then you are just going to be one of those local artists that could have made it big.” She gave me one of those looks that drove me crazy. “Don’t look at me that way. Do you really think I can make it big?” Raven actually flicked me on my forehead. “Why in the hell do you think everyone is telling you to enter all these competitions? Get it through that thick skull of yours,” she said with great exasperation. “You could be the next Picasso, Pollock, O’Keefe or Thomas Hart Benton if you wanted it badly enough. You just have to go for it. They are not going to hand you this accolade without you putting yourself out there. You have the work ethic; now show people you are worth it.” That speech came at a time when I was letting Russ get into what I called my inner circle. So far, my mom was the only one I let in that circle. I started to let myself really love him. I had only one example of what love was and that was my parents. My mom gave up everything to be with my dad. She moved away from her home. She had started college when she met my dad but when he was offered a job in Kansas City, he took it. They were married by the justice of the peace near my mom’s parents. They were their witnesses. That was probably why my dad’s family didn’t want anything to do with us. I was totally guessing this because my mom really didn’t want to talk about them. She would tell me all about my dad though. How wonderful he was, how good-looking he was and that I had his looks but way prettier. She always told me how pretty I was and would touch my face then pull back my hair. He was smart too. When I introduced Russ to her, she thought Russ reminded her of my dad. I thought about what Raven said for a couple of days. I decided I would do what she was doing. I was going to teach art and do art on the side. That way, I would be able to have Russ and my art…I thought. At the end of my junior year and the night before Russ graduated, he asked me to marry him. I was so surprised I felt like I was in love, so I said yes, especially since my mom really liked him. She knew he would make order in my life. That was the only thing I didn’t understand: why everyone got so frustrated with me. I did my best to keep everyone happy. I worked late at night when I was not needed. I lost sleep because they wanted me to be there for them. Why couldn’t they accept that when I was having a show, I needed to finish what I had started. I had lost all my friends because I didn’t have time for them. I only made time for Russ and my mom. So, what if I was a little late and I had paint all over myself. Russ had been offered a job in Kansas City at a financial firm doing budget analyst stuff. He tried to explain it to me, but he said he could see my eyes glazing over. He just wanted me to be there for all the social events because he wanted to show off his beautiful bride to be. I tried to be there for everything but several of my paintings had won some competitions and I had to travel with them. If I had to pay for all my travels I wouldn’t have gone. My professors were nice enough to not dock me for missing my classes. To be honest they let me, and some other students work at our own pace. A couple demanded things to be done on a certain date, but the rest said as long as they were done by the end of the semester it was okay if I missed classes here and there. My senior year I took my first sculpting class. I had a new love. You could give me anything and I could make it into something. I literally went out to the dump to find things to weld together. I made friends with a woman named Emma in my sculpting class. We would dig through the trash at school, or we went to junk yards together to find things. Some Saturdays we would go to garage sales at the end of the day to see what people wanted to donate to our art class. Emma and I became inseparable especially since Russ was living close to work. He was saving for our house; he would tell me. I was thrilled I had more time to get more work done. Emma was now in my inner circle. I think she was in my heart before I even knew it. She was so full of life that I was sucked into her inner circle too. I didn’t know I could feel like this. Our friendship was something very special. She got me and I her. My mom would cook for Emma and me on Saturdays and Sundays and sometimes during the week she would call us in the afternoon to see if we wanted to come over for dessert or breakfast for dinner. We were thrilled when we would come over and find a cool piece of trash, she found on the side of the road thinking we could do something with it. Emma was an expert welder if you ever met one. She had real skills when it came to welding. Her favorite place to go was car junk yards. She would climb all over things to get to something she just knew was there. We were both working on our Senior Show our last semester. Hers were all sculptures while I had paintings, one sculpture and chalk drawings in mine. Emma went out late one evening when I was too busy to go with her and when she didn’t show up around midnight, I knew something was wrong. There were a couple of guys working in the welding room and I asked them if they would go with me to the junkyard to see if we could find Emma. When we pulled up, we saw Emma’s car, so she had to be there. Of course, the gate was locked, which didn’t stop Josh and Tony from crawling over the fence. I called the number on the gate to see if they knew anything. No, they hadn’t seen her come in or leave. That was when I got scared. I called the police next. While I was telling them the situation Josh yelled for me to call an ambulance and a tow truck because a car was on Emma. Well, that changed how the police were talking to me. Everything seemed to be in slow motion or so fast I couldn’t keep up with what was going on. I had climbed over the fence before the police, ambulance and fire department got there. I was talking to Emma trying to keep her calm while I was a nervous wreck. I rode with her to the hospital, and I watched as the EMTs, then the doctors, worked on her. I was ushered out to the waiting room. I had never been so scared in my life. Josh and Tony came to the hospital and sat with me. We four had worked together all year and helped each other when someone needed a third or fourth hand. When the doctors were getting ready to take Emma to surgery to try to stop the bleeding they came out and told us that she wanted to talk to me. I just knew that meant they weren’t sure if Emma would survive. The guys looked at me and I knew they were thinking the same thing. I definitely wanted to go to her though it was just that my feet were glued to the floor. I was able to free my right foot then my left and it was the most difficult walk I had ever taken. It was Emma that did all the talking. She wanted me to know that she loved me more than her sisters put together, which was a lot. I was to tell her parents that she was sorry for taking one too many chances. She wanted me to sell all of her art and give the money to her parents. They didn’t need her art to sit around and collect dust, they needed a new car and to pay off her bills. She had my wedding present hiding under her mattress. It was supposed to be my something new. It was a locket, and she already had a picture of my mom and Russ in it. I listened as she told me all these things as tears ran down my cheeks. It was so hard for her to talk but she wanted to tell me, no she had to tell me all these things. I finally stopped her when I saw the nurse come in. “Emma, my sweet Emma, I will be waiting right here for you. You, my sweet thing, will be okay. You have to be okay. We have a lot of art to make together.” The nurse started to interrupt. “I love you, Emma.” It was the last thing I said to her. She didn’t make it through the surgery. I was devastated. My mom came to the hospital to pick me up. I didn’t call her, Tony did. I was a basket case. I curled up on my bed at my mom’s house and cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t go back to school. Russ drove to Warrensburg the next day when he called my mom to find out why I wasn’t calling him back. He knew that Emma was very important to me. I wouldn’t talk to Russ; I didn’t want to see him. I thought I should call off the wedding. I couldn’t get married in a month. I hadn’t showered in a couple of days, and I was still covered in paint. I only ate a couple bits of food that my mom made me eat. I had my back to the door when I heard a knock, then the door opened. “I said, I don’t want to see anyone. Please go away.” I said in the saddest voice I have ever heard come out of my mouth. “I don’t care what you want.” It was Raven. “Get your sorry ass out of bed and into the shower now.” I turned and looked at this very mad woman. “You heard me, get your butt out of bed now.” “I can’t.” “Yes, you can, and you will. Emma’s parents are here, and they need to talk to you. I can smell you coming down the hall, so get your butt into gear and get in the shower.” “I can’t talk to them. I am the reason their daughter isn’t here.” “You pushed the car onto her?” Why was she talking to me like that? I just lost my best friend, my sister. “I should have gone with her to the junkyard. If I had she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” I couldn’t believe I was crying again. How much water could come out of you before you shriveled up and died? “No, you shouldn’t have. You had your own stuff to get done. Emma took a chance to find something she thought she just had to have. She had enough pieces finished for her project; she just wanted to do more. She made the unwise decision to climb on something not safe.” “But.” “No buts. Shit happens. We don’t always get to choose how things go down. Like right now. I have two parents waiting to talk to you. Their hearts are broken. It is a terrible thing to bury a child. The least you can do is talk to them.” I got up off the bed and started to walk past her. She grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug. Oh, how I needed that hug. Finally, she said, “And brush those pearly whites while you are in there,” as she pushed me off of her. I couldn’t help it. I blew out my breath into her face and laughed. She play swatted my behind as I walked past her. Russ was in the living room when I came out. He came rushing towards me and gave me another great hug. “Elli, I am so sorry.” “Please, not now Russ. I just got my crying under control, and I am right on the brink of crying again. I have to go see Emma’s parents.” “I know. I can take you.” “That would be great.” “You should tell them that we will name our daughter after Emma.” That promise made me laugh, “So you think we will have a daughter?” “We have to. It would be a shame to waste all your beautiful genes on a boy. I figured that we would have a couple of each.” I should have called him. He had brightened my mood. “We never talked about having children or how many we would have. Four children means a lot of diapers and midnight feedings. Are you sure that is the correct number?” “We can have as many as you want. I have a stellar job, and I know I will be promoted sooner than I thought I would. My boss loves me.” He was very proud of himself. “I would love a large family. I think I missed out on being an only child.” “You think you missed out on not getting to sit where you wanted to in the car, the living room or kitchen table? You missed out having fights over what to watch on tv?” I stopped him. “Okay, I get it.” Seeing Emma’s parents was hard. I told them what Emma told me to tell them. It broke my heart to see them cry. Russ ended up coming in with me and I was glad he did. He comforted me then told me to go comfort Emma’s parents. I didn’t know if I would have the wherewithal to do that. They gave me the locket that Emma had made for me. It was beautiful. She didn’t tell me she made it. Just looking at it I could tell. Raven was there as well as Dr. Mullens, the head of the department. It was a difficult meeting, and I was glad Raven made me do it. When Emma’s parents left Dr. Mullens called me into his office. I was so nervous. I had never been called into a principal’s office before, and that was what it felt like when Dr. Mullens called me into his office. I looked at Russ and he said he would be by the car when I was finished. Dr. Mullens sat in his chair and motioned for me to sit in the chair across from him. My hands were all sweaty and I wasn’t sure what to do with them. Since the chair I was sitting in was a fabric chair I started to rub it like I was wanting to know what the fabric was made from doing so I dried my hands. “Ms. Wright, I don’t know if you are aware that Mr. Pembrook will be taking a leave of absence to work on his PhD. We were wondering if you would be willing to take his place while he was gone. He teaches first year art students mainly and art appreciation which is a core class. You have shown great promise while you were here. Pembrook and Adams think you are an excellent choice to fill in while he is away. If we can get another line when he gets back, we can have you apply for the job, but it will have to be a national search. What do you think? Wait, don’t answer me now. Think about it while you are finishing up for your senior show. I will expect an answer by the end of next week.” “Will I be paid?” He chuckled, “Yes, you will be paid standard adjunct faculty pay. Though you will have all the studios open to you for your own work plus some of the standard supplies.” “I don’t have to think about it. This will give me the experience I want to see if I would be any good at teaching. I know I should have figured out what I wanted to do besides painting all day. Thank you for giving me a chance.” “Come in next week and I will have a contract ready for you.” “Thanks again, Dr. Mullens.” “Thank you, Ms. Wright.” As soon as I walked out of the main office Raven met me with a shove. “I told you to stop letting things happen for you. You took the job without thinking about it didn’t you?” “Well, yes.” I didn’t get a chance to elaborate. “When will you take charge of your life? Well, I am glad you are sticking around so I might beat some sense into you.” She gave me a hug then played smacked me on the back of the head. “Your split personality is showing through.” I gave Raven a shove in the shoulder. “I have to go tell Russ.” I did my best…I got a teaching job Russ was pleased that I came out smiling. He wasn’t sure about me taking the job though. “Where are we going to live? I thought we would get a condo near my work until we started a family in a couple of years.” “Russ, didn’t you think I would want a job?” “I make enough money for us to live on. I just thought you would want to paint for a while until the children come.” “Seriously, you thought I would give up my work to have children?” I couldn’t believe he thought I would do that. “I just thought they would take up so much time that you would want to be there for them. I know you can go back to work when they are older.” “What century are you from? What about you giving up your job to take care of all these children you want?” “Don’t get mad. I just thought that is what you would want to do. We can play it by ear.” I looked at him and wondered if he really knew me. “You do know that my art is not a hobby. Don’t you?” I stared at him and wondered if he understood me. “Hey, who set up your website? Who is keeping it up to date? Who replies to the comments? You haven’t even learned to upload pictures to it. I am being supportive here.” He had turned the table on me, it was his turn to be upset with me. I gently touched his shoulder and leaned into him and kissed him softly on the lips. “You do all this for me. Do you think we are ready to get married? We hadn’t even talked about how many children we wanted. What else have we not talked about?” “Well, I know I am ready. Do you have second thoughts about us? Has Emma’s death changed things for you?” I cringed when he said her name. Maybe it had woken up my dreams of who I really wanted to be. Her words and her parents’ words came flooding back to me. ‘You are an amazing artist. Honor Emma by being the best you can be.’ He was searching my eyes with so much concern. “Don’t you love me? I know I love you.” “Of course, I love you.” “Then it is settled. We are getting married in less than a month.” Russ kissed me and gave me a warm embrace. I went home and painted a sign ‘Be the best you can be.’ I would keep the sign forever as a memory of this time in my life. My Senior Show was a success, as was Emma’s. Everyone chipped in on their sales to be able to send Emma’s parents $100,000. I got back the nicest letter of appreciation from them. They were giving a scholarship to any student going into art at her high school. With all the money left over after paying her bills, they were able to buy a nice used car. I saw where Emma got her huge heart from. I reached over to touch my sign. “Emma, thank you for being my friend. I promise you I will work my butt off to be the best artist I can be.” I had made enough money to pay for my part of the wedding. When Russ asked me to marry him, I told him that I didn’t want a big wedding. My mom didn’t have any money. She still took in laundry and typed up theses. She indeed had more work living here next to a university. He was okay with a small wedding and said he would talk to his parents about paying for the reception. I didn’t think they were thrilled with the idea. Since he was the only boy in the family, they thought they would get one wedding break. After my show I was able to give them some money. Well, I tried to give them money, but Russ’s dad wouldn’t hear of it. He told me to put that money to good use like more paints, brushes and canvases. Mrs. Shaw didn’t seem happy about it. She did add that some furniture would be nice too. I thanked them for their support. Mr. Shaw came over and gave me a big hug. I knew it was going to be difficult to win over Mrs. Shaw, but Mr. Shaw was another story. He was one of my biggest fans. Since Emma was gone, I had my mom stand up for me. She was taken aback when I asked her to be my maid of honor. “Are you sure Elli? You can ask one of your other friends. I am an old lady.” “Mom, you aren’t that old. You have always been there for me. Who better to stand up for me at my wedding?” I reached over the kitchen table to grab her hand. “Mom, I want us to walk up together too. Come, I don’t think you want to wear Emma’s dress, so we need to pick you out something beautiful to wear on my special day.” “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a daughter like you.” “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a mother like you.” Our wedding was small, and we got married in Russ’s church to make his mom happy. My mom and I didn’t go to church after my dad died so I was fine with it. I really liked the minister who performed the wedding. He had everyone get out of the pews and encircle us as he performed the wedding. It made it feel so special. After the wedding ceremony we walked across the street to the church hall. We had a lovely dinner and the best wedding cake I have ever tasted. I hoped there would be leftovers. My hopes were dashed because everyone else thought the cake was as good as I did. Russ didn’t have time to go on a honeymoon so we went to the nicest hotel we could handle paying for. I just couldn’t justify paying several hundred dollars for one night in a hotel. We compromised on a hundred and fifty. I had never paid that much for a hotel and if my mother knew how much it was, she would have gone crazy ranting on how much we could have bought at the grocery store for that much money. When I paid almost that much on the dress she wore in the wedding, she threw a fit until I said I guess I will not get married then. I wished I could say our first few months of married life were wonderful times, but they were not. We had to get used to each other’s habits. I felt like I was doing a better job of adjusting than Russ. I knew he liked things a certain way, but I thought that would change when we got married. Aren’t you supposed to think of the other person when you get married? We had decided to live halfway between our jobs. Well, when it came time to find a place to live the couple of places in Lone Jack were not up to Russ’s standards. We settled on a place in Lee’s Summit. Russ wasn’t really happy about it, and he made sure I knew it every time he got stuck in traffic. I tried to tell him that I had to drive farther so stop complaining. When classes started up in the fall, I would stay with my mom a couple of times a week. I started keeping more clothes there than I did at our apartment. Russ hated that I was always covered in paint so I would go to my mom’s house to shower and change before going home. Then he wasn’t thrilled that I spent so much time at my mom’s house. He thought it looked wrong. “I work late, I have to shower before I come home and then I have over a half hour drive to get here. On days when I teach the next morning it gives me less than six hours of sleep. We could live in Warrensburg if you want me home every night.” Well, that shut him up for a little while. Our communication skills left something to be desired. I would swear I told him something and he would yell that he told me something. Russ started somewhat calmly then it crescendoed into an ear-splitting scream, “You never listen to me when I talk. You are always thinking about the next thing you are going to paint or what you are going to be teaching the next day.” I said through gritted teeth, “Why can’t you understand that I have never taught before! This is using a different part of my brain. I am exhausted driving back and forth, teaching four classes and I have to produce art to stay active. You are the one who wants to live in an apartment that has no natural light. We live in a cave. I have no room to paint in this place even if there was light. I told you that, then you went and signed the contract without me.” My last sentence must have gotten to him because he changed his tactics. He almost sounded like the loving husband I thought I married, “I have to drive too. I work hard all day. I would like to come home to my wife and have a nice dinner.” Yes, he worked all day at a desk. Oh, he played racquetball three days a week during his lunch hour with friends. Who gets an hour and a half for lunch? He worked late almost every day, so he didn’t have to deal with the traffic. I would like to come home from work to a husband and a nice dinner too. I didn’t know who he thought he married. I had never made dinner for him before. I really didn’t cook. I had never had to cook before. My mom would cook between doing laundry and typing to use another set of muscles, she would say. She did give me her favorite cookbook when I got married and wished me luck. Why did everyone expect me to change when I got married? Was that what I was supposed to do? I talked to Raven about my situation. She said marriage was a give and take situation. If no one gives and always takes, marriage becomes a losing battle. Okay, I decided that I would try to have dinner on the table on Fridays and Saturdays, and we would go to my mom’s house on Sunday. I was happy with myself that I actually accomplished my plan. That worked for a while. Mom made enough for Russ to take some leftovers home for a couple of nights that I wasn’t there. Russ liked my mom’s cooking so that helped too. Two years went by in a flash. I was getting known around the United States as an up-and-coming American artist who could paint in many styles. Usually, an artist picked one way of painting, but I loved to change how I painted. Dr. Mullens had several talks with me about picking one style or technique of painting many times. He thought one way would be best for my career as an artist. I was thrilled that he thought I could have a career as an artist but I just couldn’t pick one. It was what drove Raven mad many times too, though Dr. Mullens never got mad or yelled at me. Raven did. I was making almost as much money selling one of my paintings as I was for teaching one of my classes. Some of my sculptures would bring in a pretty penny too. I didn’t see what was wrong with what I was doing. Dr. Mullens called me into his office one spring day. “Ms. Wright.” “I’m sorry Dr. Mullens, I did change my name to Elli Shaw,” I said with some apprehension. “Don’t you sign your paintings, Wright?” Russ wasn’t happy that I signed my paintings Wright, so I changed to Shaw. He made a big deal with it on my website that I was now Elli Shaw. He sent out flyers to all the galleries that had my paintings to let them know that I was now a Shaw. “Sir, I just changed a couple of months ago to signing Shaw. It was easier to hide the smaller name.” I felt I had to give a reason why I changed besides that my husband wanted me to use his name. “Why do you hide your name anyway?” “I hate to distract from the painting.” “Don’t you want to be known?” The furrowed brow was telling. I needed to stop hiding behind my paintings. “Yes sir.” I gave a huge sign more than I intended because I knew what was coming. “Then sign them with a flourish Ms. Wright.” Why did everyone know what was best for me? I was doing pretty good here. “Your contract is ending soon. Dr. Pembrook is coming back in the fall. I am sad to say I didn’t get another line to hire another teacher. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind teaching a couple of classes still as an adjunct. You can use the studios still,” he added like it was a selling point. It was a selling point. I didn’t have anywhere else to paint or do my sculpting. “Yes, I would like that.” Raven wasn’t pleased with me again. I disappointed Raven more than Russ, I thought. I wanted my marriage to work but Raven thought I should either paint full-time or teach full-time. My evaluations from students were some of the highest in our department. Apparently, I had not pissed off any of my students. That was my assumption why I had a high ranking in the department when it came to evaluations. I thought Raven was a great teacher. I haven’t had a bad art teacher, and everyone has been so supportive. I had avoided the teachers that I heard weren’t that great. I knew of professors who shouldn’t be teaching. I had some of those in other departments. I had just been lucky, I guess. I came home one August day and actually made dinner. It was a weekday so this would be a surprise for Russ. Well, he surprised me. He was so excited that I had the table set, I was not covered in paint, dinner was ready, and it was a weekday. He came running at me with the biggest smile and swung me around ending in a passionate kiss. He pulled back from me, “Do we have time for some action in the bedroom before dinner?” I laughed, “I should surprise you more often. I think so.” He picked me up and carried me to bed. Russ was laying on his back and panting. “What a great way to end a perfect day!” “I’m guessing you don’t have much hope for dinner,” I looked over at him. “No, no I trust dinner will be wonderful. I have great news.” I turned on my side resting my head on my hand. “I have been promoted. I start in a couple of weeks. They told me to take a vacation before I start because I won’t have time for a while. You aren’t teaching right now, it's perfect.” “I guess I can finish my work when we get back. Where do you want to go? How about…” I was interrupted. “I have the perfect place: Destin, Florida. We used to go down there when I was a kid.” “I was thinking New Orleans, there is so much to see there.” “I want to relax because I have to hit the ground running when I get back. I want to lie on the beach and chill.” “Okay,” I said with disappointment. I really hated his idea, but he seemed so happy about it. We drove down on the weekend and found a cheap hotel near the beach. We did have fun, and I had time to prep for my classes in the fall. Russ couldn’t believe I still used a legal-size pad of paper to plan my classes. I love how they come in different colors so I can have one color for each class. He said we could afford a computer for me, but I said I was fine with my paper and pen. I had forgotten my birth control pills but it wasn’t the first time I had done that, so we weren’t concerned. We should have been concerned. We had the distraction of being so busy when we got home, we didn’t have time to think about each other, just our own work. I went to stay with my mom for the week and he put in tons of hours at the office. He had to work over the weekend, so I was free to stay another week with my mom. It was a little bit of a misnomer saying I spent the week with my mom. I might see her in the morning. Often, she tried to make breakfast for me though I tried to pass on it until I got a pouty face. That was when I knew I was going to have to have breakfast with her if not today, definitely tomorrow. For fall break I asked Russ if he wanted to go to Oktoberfest in Hermann for a quick getaway. We needed to reconnect. It was all set. I went home that Friday and got out our suitcases and started to pack. I came across my old pill container in the bathroom and thought, damn I hadn’t been taking my pills. I thought about it for a moment and realized that we had only had sex a couple times in the last two months. This was not good on many levels. Aren’t young married couples supposed to have sex all the time? All of a sudden, a huge light bulb went off over my head. Our life was so busy the first couple of months we got back that I didn’t even notice that I had missed my period not once but twice. I dropped everything and ran to the closest store and hoped that I would beat Russ home. I didn’t want to have him see what I was about to do…take a pregnancy test. I sat there staring at the stick. How were we going to take care of a baby when we barely took care of ourselves? Our house was a disaster area. I was hardly home so most of the mess was Russ’s, though he expected me to clean it up. Well, he had another thing coming if he thought I was going to pick up after him. We were both so busy working on our careers that we barely talked anymore. How were we going to do this? I stopped asking questions I couldn’t answer and just stared at the stick. Russ came home all excited and ready to go on our mini vacation. He found me sitting on the couch with the stick lying on a napkin on the coffee table. I was tired of holding it. I thought for a moment if I ignored it, would the whole thing disappear? I wanted to have children but not yet. I thought maybe when I was thirty and was well established. “Do you have all my stuff packed too?” he said as he walked past me into the bedroom. “Elli, I thought you wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. Why is everything just lying on our bed?” He came back in and looked at me. Well, he could at least see that I was upset. He rushed over to me, “Elli, what is it? Your Mom or one of my parents?” I looked him in the eyes then I looked at the coffee table. “What’s this?” I could see the realization cross his face. He got the biggest smile on his face. He grabbed me and kissed me all over. It was hard not to get caught up in his excitement. We made love right there on the couch. It was the first time we had done it someplace other than the bed. Russ probably thought the bed was covered in clothes, so this was the neatest place to do it. He was good though I have no references, but he was nothing like what I saw in the movies or on tv. “I take it you are happy that we are having a baby?” “More than you know, aren’t you?” “I just wonder how we are going to do this. We barely see each other now. How are we going to take care of a baby and when will we see it?” “Don’t be silly. We will make time. You don’t have to teach anymore. Don’t look at me that way. I didn’t say you had to give up painting. Instead of going to Hermann, why don’t we start looking at houses? We can get a house where you can paint all you want.” “I can just paint when the baby doesn’t need me, is that it?” “No, we can work something out.” I had a bad feeling that Russ’s ideal world wasn’t a realistic one. I went along with it because I wanted it to be perfect. We started looking at houses in the morning, then the afternoon and all-day Sunday. Finally, we talked to a realtor that we both liked at one of the open houses. We gave her our criteria of what we wanted in a house. We didn’t feel we had to get out of the apartment right away since we still had a lease until May. For the first couple of months, we saw a ton of homes that didn’t fit either what Russ wanted or what I needed. Then she would call us every once in a while, when something new came on the market. One day in March, Russ called me to tell me that he had just bought a house in Liberty. “Russ! How could you do that? I haven’t even seen it!” We haven’t even looked at homes in Liberty. It was too far away from Warrensburg. “Don’t get mad. I think you will love it. It is such a hot market there that I was afraid we would lose it.” “Why didn’t you call me to come look at it?” “I knew you had class and would want to wait. Cheryl called me this morning and said she just did a walk through with the realtors and knew that we would love it. You can see it this weekend. I promise you; you are going to love it. Wait until you see the kitchen, it is beautiful.” “Like I love to cook!? What about the light? Where will I paint?” I was so frustrated. “There is a three-car garage that has room for you to paint.” “Is there heat in there? How about air-conditioning for the summer?” “We can get a space heater, and you can open the garage door in the summer.” Great! I can sweat my pants off in the summer and freeze to death in the winter. “Is there any light in there?” “Of course, there is light in there.” “Russ, you know what I mean. Am I going to get enough natural light to paint by?” “I think so.” He wasn’t sure, I could tell. Why did he do this? “The best thing is we don’t have to use your money to afford it. We can just do it on my salary. I hear the silence on your end. This makes it so you don’t have to worry about painting after the baby comes for as long as you want.” I told myself over and over you have to give and take to make a marriage work. My pregnancy had been more than I could have asked for. I had very little morning sickness and I was lucky I was carrying all the weight in front like a little basketball. I had a couple of months to go, and I was crossing my fingers that the delivery was as easy as carrying her. Last month the doctor did a sonogram, and she was pretty sure we were having a little girl. Russ was standing there crying and holding my hand as we looked at the screen. “Look Elli that is our little Emma.” It was times like these that my love grew for Russ. I could be so frustrated with him, and he would be so sweet the next minute that my frustration would float away. When I went to look at the house my heart sank. There was a lot of natural light everywhere except the garage. Oh, the garage had some natural light, and it was big so I knew I could get some nice size canvases in there and I could use my blow torch for metal work. It was a lovely home, and it had an inground pool. I felt rich. My mom was going to love the place. I was wondering if she would move here to be close to us and Emma. I was learning that you can’t plan everything or things for Elli always change. Well, my mom had met a couple of widows who worked at the university. She first met Sheila, mom was typing up Sheila’s papers and mom transcribed her book. Mom thought Sheila’s book was interesting and they started talking. Sheila was the first real friend I had seen my mom have. I never thought about it. I was an awful daughter, was my thought, when this realization overtook me. Sheila, Lois and Mom started to share expenses in a cute home near campus. Mom had stopped doing laundry for anyone else but who lived in the house. They were thinking about getting someone else to move into the fourth bedroom. They all agreed that it had to be someone who fit their little group. I was worried that I wouldn’t have a place to stay when it was a late night. Lois and Sheila thought I fit into their little group very well and left the bedroom empty for me. I was happy that my mom had these new friendships. Emma came the week after finals. I didn’t know how lucky I was to get all my grades in, and I was able to take about a half a dozen paintings downtown to the art gallery to sell. Max, the new director of the gallery, said I needed to get an agent. I had been taking paintings to the gallery since Ms. Plank took me there. He said, “You could have your paintings all over the States if you had someone working for you to get your name out there.” I was pleased and a little embarrassed by his gushing all over me. We kept walking back and forth in front of my paintings and he finally asked me if I would mind if he worked on getting me known. He would only take a small percentage of the sales. I thought why not. We never wrote up a contract, but we shook hands and that was when my water broke. Max drove me to the hospital. I told him I could do it on my own, but he insisted. Russ met me there and Emma came into the world two hours later. My mom came to the hospital and was so excited to see her baby have a baby. She couldn’t believe how easy this pregnancy was for me. That was when I heard her horror story about having me. Why didn’t I ask her how it was to have me before? I really was not a great daughter. She was in labor for days with me. The doctor thought her labor would stop because she wasn’t progressing. She had morning sickness the whole nine months, so she was begging the doctor to take the baby. Finally, on the third day the doctor said it was time to decide about having a c-section. Mom didn’t have any help after the baby was born, which made Mom not excited about having another baby. My parents had just started talking about having another child when my dad died. I couldn’t believe my mom’s confession at my hospital bed. Why wasn’t my mom mad at me? She ended by saying she was lucky to have just me because she just barely made enough to take care of the two of us. I made a vow to myself when I sold my next painting, I was going to do something really nice for her. My luck continued as Emma was the perfect baby. I could paint with her in her baby carrier, and I got a lot of work done. Once Russ came home and went ballistic when he saw paint on her head. I hadn’t even noticed it. We went out to buy a playpen that night. That didn’t help much because she was happiest when she was in her carrier. To be honest, so was I; I couldn’t get enough snuggles in. I didn’t know I could love someone that much. When she got too big to be in the front, I wore her on my back. She loved it when I would paint big paintings because I would be moving all over the garage. I sold two large paintings thanks to Max. One on each side of the country. I was able to buy my mom a new car. Nothing fancy but it was new and paid for. It was small so she could see over the hood, and it had the best safety rating in case she got into an accident. She was very proud of the car and her widowed friends didn’t worry about her coming to visit me. She couldn’t believe me when I handed her the key and said it was hers. “Honey, I can’t take this. It is too much.” “Oh, yes you can, and you will. You have been very good to me. Besides, I wanted you to be able to come visit me without worrying about you on the road with that old junker. Besides, Russ has already ordered someone to come and take your car to sell it for parts.” With the leftover money we put windows all along the side of the garage to give me more natural light. I was glad there weren’t any trees along this side of the house. I would have to wait until the next painting was sold to insulate the garage. I decided not to go back to Central to teach. Raven wasn’t sure about my plan even though she supported me. I decided to paint full-time for a year. I didn’t think I could leave Emma with a sitter just yet. Max was working on selling my paintings or trying to get them into museums. I was feeling pretty good about everything. I just wished Russ were feeling good about the situation. He was thrilled I wasn’t going back to work though he thought I would put more effort into the house. Of course, I painted Emma’s room. It was so adorable in my opinion even if I was the one who designed it. I painted all kinds of butterflies flying all over the room. Russ thought I should paint the rest of the house because it was all white. He thought I would want to decorate it too. I wanted to paint. The only way I knew how to decorate was with my paintings. I felt like we didn’t have money to buy anything that was decorative. We used our money to go towards house payments, house bills, and buy food and clothes. Russ’s clothing bill was huge while I was happy with wearing what he called workout clothes. My mom would let me paint the walls when I started to earn enough money for my own paints. When I would go to the hardware store for paint, the clerk finally asked me one day what I was painting with these small amounts of paint or paint that was on discount because the color wasn’t mixed right. I told him I was an artist, and I used anything I could find cheap. I just needed to paint. From then on, he would keep paints for me behind the counter and sell them to me cheaper if I would show him a picture of what I painted. One day I went in to sketch him behind his counter and brought him a painting I did of him on a piece of wood I found in the trash behind the store. This simple gift actually got him all teary eyed. He had me sign the back because when he died, he wanted to leave it for his children to sell because he knew I was going to be famous one day. I was so touched by him that I got glassy eyed too. I started to put paintings that I just wasn’t sure if they were finished around the house. I thought if I saw them in a different light or a quick glance, I would see what was missing. I had to admit I got a little carried away. One day Russ came home. “Elli, I feel like we live in an art gallery. Plus, I see all these little handprints all over the furniture and floors. Can’t you at least wait until they are dry before you bring them into the house, so Emma won’t mess them up and in turn make a mess of our house? It can’t be healthy for her anyway. She sucks her thumb and half of these handprints around here are missing a thumb print.”