A widow decides to live out her husband's dream of living in Italy.  She goes for three months.  She finds healing, herself and love again. Written by Kimberly Caristi A widow decides to live out her husband's dream of living in Italy. She goes for three months. She finds healing, herself and love again. 1.Flying with the ghost When David pulled the car into the drop off lane at the airport terminal, the smell of anxiety filled the car. I surprised myself by getting out. In the half hour that it took us to get to the airport, I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him to turn the car around and go back. I was astonished that David didn’t say anything to me about my death grip on the armrest. Neither one of us said a word until we hugged and said goodbye. When I took the first step on the plane, it was unsettling. I sat down and took a deep breath. I had been holding my breath since we left the hotel. The seat next to me was empty. Fantastic, I hoped it would stay that way; I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I planned to take my nighttime medication right after dinner in the hope that I would sleep the rest of the trip. My mind raced through all the steps he planned. I couldn’t believe I followed through and was on the plane. I had to be psychotic. It wasn’t even my idea. Why was I letting him control me? I kept moving my eyes from the flight attendants helping people with their carry-ons, to my tablet and water bottle stuffed into the seat pocket, to looking out the window. I should leave. I stood up and pulled my tablet out of the pocket. I sat down abruptly. The ghost that sat next to me pulled me down. Why was he here? Why was I here? Insanity must be the reason. Almost everyone was on board. Reluctantly, I put my tablet back and put my seat belt on. I wiped my sweaty hands off on my pants. I could do what he wanted. I checked my seat belt and gave it an extra tug to make sure it was tight. What was I doing? I unbuckled and sat on the edge of the seat. I could just get off and call David to come back for me. I thought I could go through with this. I stood up again then sat back down. I heard this sweet old voice inquire, “Honey, is this your first time flying? I promise when you get to Rome you will have a wonderful time.” I looked across the aisle and saw a woman who had to be at least eighty years old. She must have just gotten her hair dyed a lovely shade of purple just for the trip. It complimented her lime green pants and fuzzy pink oversized sweater. I bet she could have wrapped it around herself twice. The neon orange tennis shoes completed the outfit. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to feel comfortable enough in my skin to wear what I wanted and not care what people thought of me. I dressed very conservatively but my secret wish was to wear bright colors…maybe not as bright as hers. The bohemian, bright woman told me all the things I would see in Rome. I smiled at her as she talked. She didn’t realize I wasn’t even going to Rome. Should I tell her? She asked me questions, but never gave me a chance to answer, she just kept talking. The flight attendant interrupted, instructing me to buckle up. Wait, I was getting off the plane. I saw the door had been closed. Shit! I looked back at the old lady, and she smiled at me. Then I felt the jerking motion of the plane backing up. Shit! Shit! Shit! I was going to Italy. I heard the sweet old voice again, “You can do this. I will get you a drink when we are in the air. It will calm your nerves.” I felt compelled to tell her that I was not afraid of flying, but instead I sat back in my seat and buckled up. My heart sank down deep into my stomach. I wanted to go back. Without a doubt I didn’t want to be on the plane. When the seat belt sign went off, the old lady promptly came and sat next to me. The smell of lilacs fill my senses. She told me she was just trying to distract me. She knew there was a reason for me to be on the plane and she tried to help. I thanked her and I told her I was fine. She kept prying until I told her my story. The sadness reflected in our eyes. I tried not to cry, but when she started to cry, we both were blowing our noses. I was used to people crying around me. I really was a sad sack. I was on this flight to try to get rid of my sadness. Doing what my ghost wanted me to do. The woman started to move back to her seat, then turned around to give my hand a pat and said, “Your life isn’t over.” Oh, but it was. The life I was blessed with was gone in a flash. I gazed out my window seeing a mountain range. The last time we traveled through the mountains was a trip for me to get energized. I wanted to look out at the beauty and let it fill up my tank. I felt closer to God when I was in nature. I loved the feeling and wished I could feel that way all the time. He didn’t care, he just spent time on his phone checking his email. I needed that kind of trip so I felt like I could continue on in our flat, drab town. We had a dirty little river that ran through the town that I drove along every so often trying to bring back the feelings I had on those trips. I loved going to Italy. It would fill my soul not just because there was so much beauty in nature, but because the art and architecture filled me as well. Walking into a church that was several hundred years old just sent my spirits soaring. Would I love Italy as much without my personal interpreter? I didn’t know. What I did know was this would be my last trip to Italy. I took my medication after dinner as planned. I didn’t even turn on a movie, which surprised me. I loved movies and on overseas flights it was hard for me to turn the movies off, so I could sleep. I put my headphones on to listen to a book, but mostly to drown out the noise from the plane. I decided on a book that I had read before, so if I fell asleep, I wouldn’t be upset that I missed something. I closed my eyes, and I saw him. I tried to think of something pleasant or tried to concentrate on the book…nothing worked. I pulled out my tablet and switched to a Dick Van Dyke Show episode that I had downloaded. The familiarity lulled me to sleep. 2. Meeting my ghost The bright lights woke me, it was time for breakfast. I plugged in my headset into the armrest and turned on a movie. I found a romantic comedy. I wasn’t paying attention; It reminded me about the first day that we met. I was a freshman in college. He was working on his Master’s. My mom made me promise that I would go to the Newman Center’s freshman welcome gathering on the Friday before school started. I asked the girls that I met on my floor if anyone was going, and a few girls said yes. We all went together. As we were walking into the massive backyard of the Newman House, I saw this guy sitting on the ground at the edge of the yard. He looked up at me, and we shared a smile. It was obvious that he was NOT a freshman. I COULD tell he was checking out all the girls. My new friends and I did a good job of mingling. We were all excited to be starting college, and were asking each other what we were majoring in. To be honest, my friends and I were also checking out all the freshman guys. Everyone was led around to the front of the Newman Center, and we entered the living room. The service was uplifting with awesome music and the priest was fantastic. I was pleased that my mom told me to go. I knew she was four hours away and wouldn’t know if I went or not, but I was so glad I kept my promise. After Mass, my friends and I went out the front door and walked around to the back of the house toward the dorm. As we turned the corner, a guy bounced out the back door. It was the guy who was checking out all the girls. I told my new friends, “Well, he knows his way around.” They actually chuckled so I tried to be funny and said. “Doesn’t that guy have a nice butt.” My friends laughed, and the guy glanced back at us, then kept walking. Of course, being girls, we giggled. The guy started to walk slower, which made me get a little gutsier. I started to comment on his great legs, which made my friends laugh more. The guy walked slower. I kept making comments and they would laugh. Finally, at the end of the long driveway, he stopped and waited for us. We did the introductions, and he said he lived next door. We went over to his house where we sat on his front porch and told jokes for a couple of hours. 3.Arriving in Italy As we got off the plane, the old lady said to me, “Remember you are young, and your life isn’t over. You took the first step by coming here. Open your heart to the possibilities. God bless you on your travels.” “Thank you and you have a marvelous time in Rome,” was all I could manage. I teared up. I started to smile a little when the realization of what she said sunk in. She thought I was young. In any other circumstance, I would have burst out laughing at that comment. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed. I truly was a sad sack. I couldn’t believe I was in Leonardo da Vinci airport in Fiumicino. I pulled my carry-on down the corridor until I saw the departure sign. When could I return to Cincinnati? I didn’t see a flight going back. I stood there for a long time. Cripes! I might as well stay. That was what he wanted me to do. I paid for their hotel for the whole week, so they could have a mini vacation in Cincinnati. I would drive down to the rental property and back in a week; that would give me a taste of Cetraro. I would have David pick me up before they headed home. That would make my ghost happy, right? I really hated my ghost. I couldn’t believe how smoothly everything went when I picked up the car. I texted the rental company that I had arrived in Fiumicino and would be there around four o’clock. That gave me plenty of time to drive south. I arrived when everyone in Europe was having their vacation, so I knew the roads would be crowded. I didn’t take the scenic route of the Amalfi coast because I knew that road would be bumper to bumper traffic. I drove around Rome and Naples, which were one traffic jam after another. The last hour I drove the coast to Cetraro. Here I got my water views. It was over a five-hour drive and looked forward to getting there. The drive and the weather were perfect. I stopped my required every two hours and walked around the autogrill picking up a panino, water, and of course biscotti. I was sure that the doctor who ordered me to stop driving every two hours and walk around didn’t plan on me buying cookies. Well, he didn’t say I shouldn’t. At my last stop I got a text from the rental company that they left my key with my neighbor. A great way to meet my neighbor. 4. He says he loves me. During the drive I found myself thinking about the one who haunted me day and night. How could I stop thinking about my ghost? Though, I should stop referring to him as my ghost. My family already thought I had lost my mind by coming here. If I made the mistake and called him my ghost, they would put me away. I said his name out loud. “Nick.” It sounded so strange to my ears. It sounded as desperate as the morning he left me. I had only said his name a few times since then. I was still bitter about him leaving. The club that I reluctantly joined that day said that was normal. They were the only ones that I talked to about Nick, but mostly I listened to their stories. I tried to say his name again, without the anger and shock. “Nicholas.” That sounded better. I loved his full name; his mom and I were the only ones who used it. Come to find out he wasn’t a fan of Nicholas. My thoughts of him meandered to when he told me that he loved me the first time. Before, on our second date, he told me he never wanted to get married, so it was a genuine shock when he said I love you. Over Christmas vacation I thought about breaking up with him. I realized that I was falling for him, and I didn’t like that. Since I knew he had a commitment phobia, it was best that I end it. It wasn’t like I had gone to college to get my MRS. Degree like some girls I had met recently. I had planned to get my master’s in art and live in Chicago. I loved Chicago and thought it would be my destination. The day he told me; we had just come back from Christmas vacation. He had backed me into the kitchen sink and started to kiss me. He stopped and looked me in the eyes. He had the darkest, kindest eyes. They were his best feature, second to his cute butt. “Kristy, I missed you so much and I thought a lot about you while I was in Florida visiting my mom.” His face was beaming, “Oh yeah?” I wasn’t thinking it would be anything special since he mentioned his mom. I was wrong and a little surprised when he just blurted it out. Not in a romantic place, but in a dingy kitchen. I should have known right then that if I wanted romance, I wouldn’t get it from him. “I love you, Kristy.” I looked at him to see if he really meant it. I knew right then and there; I was lost to him. The change of emotion that I felt was as if I flipped a switch; going from I was going to break up with him to he loved me. He felt the same way as I did…in love. “I love you, too.” He asked if I said it because he did. I told him I didn’t want to be the first to say it because I knew it would scare him off. He nodded his head yes, saying it would have. Over the next few months, I wondered why I loved that formidable man. I knew he would dominate our lives together. Live where he wanted. Do what he wanted to do. Could I live with that? I asked myself that a hundred times. I knew saying "I love you" didn’t mean that it was a marriage proposal, but the way things were going I felt it was where we were headed. Nick was a very resolute man. I knew he was dedicated to me, but he was dedicated to his work too. I knew I would be second if he had to choose. His work was his purpose in life. I knew he would love me deeply, but would that be enough for me? I decided that in my heart I could handle being loved like that. I really didn’t mind, most days, being second fiddle to his work. As the years went on, I felt I counted more than his work. The last part of my drive was nerve-wracking. There were no thoughts of Nick, I needed to pay attention to the road. The curves, roundabouts and directions that came from my driver’s assistant were difficult to understand. Her pronunciation was as bad as mine, so knowing what towns she wanted me to look for was challenging. I didn’t think the sea would be enough to relax me, so I was glad I had bought that bottle of wine at the autogrill! I needed it. Something inside me wanted to get to Cetraro, be it my ghost or the need to escape my life. I did have things to look forward to gazing out at the sea and the weekly market where I could meet the local farmers and vendors. It was one of my week’s highlights when we lived in Macerata. We took students to study abroad for a semester several times. Well, Nick really taught them, but I would help them with whatever else they needed. Some students would visit because they were homesick, and others because they were sick. I helped students shop, talked to them about love, and my favorite topic was food and wine. When you traveled with U.S. students, you needed a teacher, of course, but what you really needed to make travel go smoothly was a mother hen. I filled those shoes rather nicely if I say so myself. 5. I have arrived I smiled when I entered the town of Cetraro. I found the apartment with little trouble. I was lucky to find a place on the beach that I could afford, especially since it was in season. Living on the beachfront would fill my soul and when I saw it my tiredness fell away. I pulled into my parking spot behind the apartment and breathed a sigh of relief. I walked around the apartment building to my front door. The front of the apartment looked a little worse for wear, but what would you expect? It faced the beach. The pictures I saw online didn’t look this dreary, though maybe they were old photos. My apartment was on the south corner on the ground floor. I liked the fact that it had a large patio, about twenty feet deep and around thirty feet wide. There was a ten-foot overhang that was the balcony above. Nice, it would protect me from the sun or rain. I liked the fact that there was a big window in the middle of the apartment. I hoped I would get some daylight into the apartment despite the large overhang. I stood there looking at the patio with my back to the beach. I felt the sea as if it were tapping me on the shoulder, saying “Turn around and come to me.” I wanted to give all my attention to the sea though I would wait until I was settled in with my glass of wine in hand. The patio gave me the impression of a courtyard, with walls extended on each side of the apartment and a quarter wall that separated my patio from the boardwalk. To have a straight shot to the beach over the boardwalk was nice. Well, more than nice: it excited me to be so close to the water I could taste it. There was a four-foot opening in the middle of the quarter wall. There used to be a gate there. I saw evidence of old pieces of hardware. Salty air and metal aren’t a good combination. The walls on each side of the patio tapered down from the balcony above to the cute little wall. I could see potted plants, flowers, or herbs on that little wall. The walls must be six or eight inches thick. I would have privacy, a plus. The border of the patio had ten inches of sandy dirt. It had a half a dozen cacti that looked like weeds. I filed them under weeds because they are unwanted and ugly. The only thing I saw the place needed was a table and chairs. I walked around to my neighbors’ apartment to see if they were home. They had done an exceptional job making their patio look like a photo shoot. It was very inviting. They had all kinds of plants around their walls and a shade that came down off the balcony protecting their stylish outdoor furniture. They even had wall art which comforted me. I knew it had to be safe here or all that would be gone. Their walls had been painted, but mine weren’t: that seemed strange. I wondered if they did it themselves. I knocked on the door. No answer, I guess it was time to watch the sea. I went back to my place and sat on the wall. If I had a party, I could use the wall as extra seating. Look at me, planning a party, that was a good sign. I vacillated between staying and going. I looked at the sea and I felt like I wanted to stay. I had said from the start that I would come to Cetraro for three months. All the shutters were closed, so no peeking into the windows of my apartment. I took a deep breath and breathed in the fresh, salty air. The sea was everything I imagined. I couldn’t believe that I got to have my morning tea just looking at this gorgeous beach and sea. Better yet, have a glass of wine with some cheese and olives and watch the sun set over this alluring blue sea. Blue wasn’t enough to describe the different colors of blues, greens and white floating around and the colors kept changing as I gazed out on the seascape. While I contemplated, I heard, “Excuse me, excuse me,” in the Queen’s English. I searched for the voice. I saw a woman waving a scarf on the balcony. I shielded my eyes from the sun. The woman said again, “Excuse me, are you Kristy?” “Yes, I am Kristy, Kristy Russo.” “Oh, good. I have your key to your apartment,” I looked around to see if there were stairs anywhere close, so I could meet her. She pointed towards the middle of the complex, “Why don’t you come up and have a cup of tea. After your long trip, you might like to relax a little before you start unpacking.” Well, I was meeting my upstairs neighbor, “Thanks.” Walking to the stairs, I saw that the boardwalk went all the way to the marina. I got a tinge of excitement which quickly faded away when the memory of walking to the marina in Greece with Nick followed. We loved that walk. Our apartment in Palaio Faliro was only two blocks away from the boardwalk that went up to Piraeus. I put that thought out of my head. I needed to meet my neighbor. We greeted each other with a welcoming handshake, “Hello, I am Susan Brown,” she conveyed with the sweetest smile. I knew instantly I liked Susan. Close up, I saw she had gray blue eyes. They twinkled so brightly. She was pleasantly overweight, but who wasn’t these days? About my height, but she carried herself with such grace. I guessed she was about ten years older than me. She moved to reveal a gentleman getting up from their little table. He set down the paper and reached out his big burly hand and introduced himself. “Hello, I am Sam Brown.” He said in a deep baritone voice. Sam was about eight inches taller and wider than Susan. A good-looking man dressed in a linen suit and a tie. I would have to buy new clothes if that was the attire for the apartment complex. I bowed my head slightly as I shook his hand. I introduced myself again. “Hi, I am Kristy Russo.” Sam replied, “Let me get you a chair. Are you Italian?” I waited for him to come back out with a kitchen chair to answer. “No, I am not Italian, my husband was.” This yielded to the dreaded question. I should have come up with a lie to tell people. I couldn’t have kept up the pretense for long. Susan caught the slip. “Was? Are you divorced?” Her sweet look made me tell the truth. If I talked fast, I could just get it over with. Just like ripping off a bandage. I blurted out my response. “He passed away three months ago. He wanted to come here to live. I decided I would come for a few months for him.” I said that all too fast. I saw the shock on their faces. I braced myself for what was to come. The sad “I am sorry” accompanied with the tilt of the head with a few nods. Both didn’t disappoint as they said in unison, “I am so sorry.” Susan needed more information, “Was it a long illness? That makes it so tough.” “No, I woke up and he was gone. It was a shock. In outward appearance he looked good and everyone, including his doctor, thought he was healthy.” I couldn’t believe I was being so open with these people I just met a minute ago. It was something about Susan’s face. She reminded me of my grandma. I wouldn’t tell her that. She was my sister’s age. Susan spoke with such feeling. “We have lost several of our friends that way. It is almost as bad as the ones that last for years in such pain. I am so sorry for your loss, Dear. Please sit down. Would you like some tea? Or a glass of wine?” I knew when I shook her hand that we were going to be friends. I smiled, “I will have whatever you are having.” “Well,” she started, “I am going to have a glass of pinot grigio and Sam is having tea because, in an hour, we are meeting our friends for drinks in their hotel, then going out to dinner. If Sam starts drinking now, he won’t stop, so I have ordered him to have tea.” She smiled at Sam, and he gave a sheepish grin. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I will have tea this time because I will need some caffeine to keep me awake while I set up my apartment. Next time I would love a glass of pinot grigio. It is one of my favorite white wines.” Sam got up to attend to our drinks and turned to Susan, “You better warn her.” Susan altered her demeanor. “How did you come across getting this apartment?” I said with apprehension. “I got it online. Why?” “Well, there are a few of us who did the same thing, and we didn’t exactly get what was advertised. I just want you to be prepared for what you might see down there,” she tilted her head to the side. “Oh, great.” I let out a big exhale. “I really was proud of myself for making all these arrangements with no help. Well, I get what I deserve for not checking references.” “The management is very disappointing,” was her tart reply. “We have tried repeatedly to talk to the apartment’s owner, but to no avail. The office says he will get back to us but hasn’t so far.” “Now you have me worried. Please, may I take a rain check on the tea and get my key so I can see what I am in for?” I felt sick to my stomach. “Of course,” She yelled out, “Sam, I am going to take Kristy down to her apartment. I will be back up in a little bit.” I heard through the open door “Okay.” She grabbed the key off the table and said, “Let’s go see the damage.” She tried to sound positive but was not successful. 6. The Apartment The door was all the way to the right. I took a deep breath as I put the key into the lock. I turned the key, pushed open the door, and I instantly felt the hot, stale air escape, as it hit me in the face. First, I saw what looked like an indoor-outdoor carpet. It reminded me of the cheap AstroTurf. Why would anyone put that in an apartment? It felt crunchy under my feet. My heart sank even more as I stepped into a small room that was the kitchen, dining, and living room. It was the size of my bedroom in Indiana, maybe a little longer, but not wider. I knew it would be small, but the carpet and the dull, stained, peeled paint didn’t help the look. I opened the window to get fresh air into the place. Susan stepped gingerly around the carpet as if she were stepping in something sticky. Her face said it all. The apartment was gross. “Is this what your place looked like?” As I looked around. Her eyes looked so sad as she replied with a flat, “No.” I pleaded, “Now I know why I got it so cheap. What should I do?” My mind reeled. “Well, that is up to you. A couple of us have tried to get our money back, but as I told you, no one will take our calls that can do anything about it. If you have the money to say forget it and just leave and leave behind all the money you put out, do it. A couple of people painted their places. We did. You must make a mindset that it is only a few months, and you can live with this for that long…right? Besides, all the neighbors here are lovely, and I bet you will enjoy your time here.” She said the last bit encouragingly. I straighten my back, “If I can live in a one-bedroom apartment with two little kids for five months I can do this,” I said, sounding more hopeful than I felt. “I guess I should get to work making up a list of things I need at the store.” “I have some cleaning supplies you can use until you get to the store,” she said as she turned around to leave. I was not sure if she was just trying to escape as quickly as possible or if she was trying to be helpful. I was delighted that there was a small plastic table with two chairs stuffed between the table and cabinets, out they went. When I came back in, I got a better view of the small row of cabinets across from the door. There was enough space to do some prep work for cooking on each side of the oven and sink. I really didn’t need what I had at home. There would be no large parties. It was just me. It would be perfect if it were clean. The oven looked like a joke someone was playing on me. I wasn’t sure if a cake pan would fit in it. I had never seen one that size before. The couch was stuck in the corner, it looked so uncomfortable, there were no armrests, and it had a dirty cover over it. My heart sank a little more. It was the first thing you saw when you opened the door beside the indoor-outdoor carpet. I liked the kitchen table. It was old, worn and a little distressed, just like me. Without the plastic table and chairs in the way, I could walk through to the hallway that was on the opposite side of the front door. I started down the hall to check out the bedrooms. The first one was right behind the kitchen wall. It was tiny with two small twin beds with a small table between them. I would be buying bed sacks for each of them if I had company. Well, at least there was a small cabinet for clothes. I opened the window and the shutters to get some fresh air into the room. The window looked out on the sidewalk, to the right was the sea. I had hoped a couple of friends would visit me. I could tell people that their room had a view of the sea. I looked around the room, then I hoped no one would visit. I could put a bunch of money into this place if I were going to live here long term. I noticed the sand in the disgusting carpet. I took a deep breath, telling myself, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Two more rooms to investigate: the main bedroom and the bathroom. I didn’t know which one I was more worried about. I flipped the lights on in the main bedroom and it looked like I had some work to do. I open one window on the south side of the bedroom. I stuck my head out the window. Of course, the sea was to the right. Nice. One matrimony bed, twice as many cabinets as the small bedroom, two small night stands on either side of the bed, and a small stuffed chair in the corner. The chair was the cutest thing in the whole apartment. That was not saying much, but I would use it in my house in Indiana. I opened the closets to find a grocery pull cart in one and two drying racks in the other – another plus. I was trying my hardest to stay positive, but all I kept thinking was that the place was positively atrocious. I climbed over the bed to open the other window and shutters on the east side. It looked out over the parking lot, and I saw my car. I didn’t think I would be leaving the window open on a regular basis. Shoot, someone walking on the sidewalk could step on the rocks and reach through the window. A little creepy, I locked the shutters so I could get air coming into the room. I didn’t know why I was worried because I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping much on the lumpy mattress. I was like the title character from The Princess and the Pea. I felt every lump. Finally, the bathroom was at the end of the hall next to the main bedroom. I was surprised that it was decent looking, and the tiles were in good condition. It just needed cleaning. I was thrilled that the tub didn’t have a rounded bottom. We lived in Florence for a month with a rounded bottom and you had to stand with one foot in front of the other or your ankles would be tilting inward. That was something I always checked. Not that I could change anything, but I always checked. The building must have been built or remodeled in the 1950s because of the tile color. Everybody back then must have been a fan of institutional green. The kind of green you used to see in hospitals. It probably had come back into vogue, but by looking at the rest of the apartment it must be old. I was glad they didn’t go all the way up the wall as in many Italian bathrooms. They were about six feet high, leaving around four feet of bare walls. I went back to investigate the kitchen. I almost puked when I opened the oven as Susan returned with a pail filled to the brim with cleaning supplies. I shut it immediately. The smell filled the room. My eyes filled with tears, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the smell or the place. Susan remarked, “That oven looks like it’s for a tiny house. I hope you don’t bake.” I looked at her and replied in a low dejected voice, “I am known for my baking.” I tried to fight back my tears. Susan took pity on me, she came over and gave me a side hug and whispered, “If you want you can spend the night with us until you can air out the place and do some cleaning. How’s the rest of the place?” I made a grand waving motion with my arm, “Be my guest, though your lovely shoes might get a little scuffed up walking through all this sand.” “Well,” she looked at her feet lifting one foot then the other inspecting them, “Maybe after Sam and I come back from dinner. I feel bad that we are leaving you like this, but we won't be long, maybe two or three hours. We will stop by when we get home ok?” She uptalked that last bit as she tried to stay positive. “Susan, isn’t Cosenza the closest big town that would have shops where I can get what I need or should I wait out for market day and shop then.” Before I could ask her when market day was, she jumped slightly and told me, “Tomorrow is market day!” We shared that moment when we both knew what market day meant. I could get what I needed, and it would be cheaper than any store. The only problem I saw was that I was not a good haggler. With all that I needed, I’d better become a great haggler. I chuckled, “I can survive one night here before I clean the place up.” With that statement I stooped and slapped my leg. I looked up at Susan, “Bug spray is first on the list,” I gave a wry smile. I was glad I brought Benadryl with me. “Now you go on before you get bit and have a nice dinner. If you see a light on when you get home, stop by for a drink. If there is no light, I have passed out wrapped up like a mummy in what I hope are clean sheets.” I hesitated then added, “Or,” I let the word hang in the air for a moment of drama, “I gave up and I am spending the night in a hotel, booking a ticket for a return flight.” I gave a bigger than necessary smile. Then I let out a, “Go,” with a shooing motion. “Have a great dinner and I will see you tomorrow.” I gave her what she needed, a smile, satisfied that I would be okay. She left giving me a little wave. I hadn’t checked the network to see if their password worked. I pulled out my phone, plugged in the password and voila, it worked. Yes, something had gone right. My phone had internet! Ok, I wasn’t cut off from the world. Nothing would be brought in from the car until I sprayed the place for bugs. Before it got dark, I did bring in my carry-on, bathroom bag, and my Bi-Pap machine. Debate, debate, debate. Should I go and get something to eat or just eat the last of the things I got at the autogrills? I made do with the food I had so I could spend some time cleaning. I took pictures so I could get my deposit back, but I figured I have seen the last of that money. I started cleaning and writing a list of things I needed to get. I ripped up the list telling myself that I was leaving. I got another piece of paper and wrote the list again. I needed to stay, or I would never get rid of the feeling that Nick wanted me here. As I wrote the list for a third time, I thought Nick would be so proud of me for writing a list. He thought if you didn’t have a list for everything you did, then you failed at being organized. I always thought that was so funny because he had a mess of an office, and we had an organized house. I hated making lists. No reason, I just hated it. “OMG,” I just realized that he was getting his way again because I had moved to the place, he wanted us to live! Plus, I was making a list! I never got to choose a move or job in our married life. I always said, when he retired, that I would get to choose where we lived. When I told him I had an idea, he would shoot it down. In other words, I wasn’t going to be choosing the place we lived. What the hell? Look where I ended up: in an atrocious apartment where I didn’t speak the language. Why were these things bothering me when they didn’t bother me when he was alive? I kept saying, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” I needed a break. The sun was going down, so I went outside and saw why the place was worth all the rubbish. The sky was on fire. All the colors were present, and they lifted my spirits. I sat in my chair and stared out into the sea. I started my ‘tank God, tank God, tank God prayers.’ I knew it wasn’t nice to make fun of the dead. Our ritual when we came to the end of our journey was to call Nick’s mom to tell her we were home. She would say that in her broken English. Our kids said it too, though we just sent each other texts with ‘TG x 3.’ I sat in silence just watching the waves lap onto the beach and the sun sinking into the water. My eyes followed a few couples taking their passeggiata, their evening walk, along the boardwalk. I hoped they realized that they were lucky to have each other. That’s one of my favorite “things” about Italy. People took the time each evening to walk around town. When we lived in Macerata, it was our favorite part of the day. On days that I decided not to cook, we would hit all the pizza-by-the-slice places along our walk for one slice at a time. We would end our journey with a gelato. I liked those places because they were so cool with the industrialized cookie sheets filled with all kinds of pizza and focaccia. You got a rectangle slice of pizza on a napkin for a couple of euros. I had two favorites that I would pick first if they had them: artichoke pizza or focaccia with rosemary and onion. My mouth watered as I thought about it. The sky was almost dark, and I only saw a few boat lights coming back from wherever. I saw light coming from behind me. I knew my screenless windows were open and there were more bugs inside than outside. It was because of that damn carpet which provided a perfect dwelling for the bugs. I realized how tired I was as I walked back into the apartment. Was seven p.m. too early to go to bed? I closed and latched all the shutters. At least they all latched. That was a good thing. Then I got nervous. I bet someone could easily unlatch them and I wouldn’t hear anything. I was so tired. I was about to shut and lock all the windows. No, I was not scared, I kept telling myself as I got ready for bed. I set up my computer. I got out a Dick Van Dyke DVD and started it. I had put on that show for years to fall asleep. I took a sheet out of the closet and wrapped it around myself. I thought about the open window above me. I told myself that I would hear if someone started to climb over my head… 7. The nightmare that won’t quit I woke up screaming, “NO, NO!” I sat up and I was sweating. Where was I? Why was I wrapped up like a mummy? For Pete’s sake, I was in Italy. I hoped Susan and Sam couldn’t hear me. My dream, or should I say my nightmare, which was on repeat flooded my thoughts. Sometimes I saw it so clearly, sometimes I was me, sometimes I floated above watching the two of us, and the worst was when I was Nick. That was a creepy feeling. I couldn’t shake the feeling for the rest of the day. I got up and walked around the apartment. I wish I could put the dream out of my head, but all I saw was the dream… I woke up and I didn’t want to open my eyes. I rarely got up before the sun. I liked staying up late and sleeping late in the morning. I shivered. Oh, how cold I was under the covers. I listened for Nicholas breathing; with no sound I thought he must have gotten up early. During the night, when I woke up to get a drink because that damn BiPAP machine dried me out terribly, I felt like something was wrong. What had I forgotten to do? When I felt that way, I always thought I had done something wrong. I was a good Catholic; I always felt I was guilty of something. When I woke up the second time, I laid there awake thinking I might as well get up. I reached out to turn off the damn BiPAP machine and I took off my mask all while keeping my eyes closed. I finally opened my eyes. I shivered and I saw Nicholas was still in bed. I stared at his back trying to see if he was breathing. After thirty-nine years of marriage, we had gotten twin adjustable beds to fit into a king frame. A big byproduct was Nicholas didn’t snoring anymore. I knew on the weekend after a couple of drinks, I knew no amount of adjusting the bed would stop his snoring. After years of sleeping on my back and all the way to the side, it still was my habit. I saw myself trying to reach out to see if I could touch him. No Luck. I knew something was wrong. I still couldn’t tell if he was breathing. The realization came over me that my life as I knew it was over. I couldn’t believe I was thinking of myself…I spoke aloud “I am sorry Nicholas.” My voice sounded so strange in the quiet of the early morning. I shook so much I could hardly get the covers off me. I had difficulty getting out of bed. I saw myself trying to stand up, but my legs were like jelly. I could hardly walk. What the hell was going on? I was so frightened. I called out his name. “Nick, Nick wake up.” No answer. I dragged myself around to his bedside. I saw in the green glow of the charger that something was devastatingly wrong…he was gone. I dropped to my knees and started to cry, no, more like howled. Was that sound really coming out of me? “No, No, No,” I heard myself say. I touched his face so gently. I have done that a thousand times before as I came to bed at night to kiss his sleeping face. Most nights he’d wake up and we’d kiss for real. Oh, how I loved him, and I knew he loved me. We would each smile. In the early years it would go farther, but as we have gotten older not as much. Now we planned our love making because we were too tired at night…no more planning…my heart was broken. I kissed him gently…he was so cold. I remember thinking what should I do now? We thought I would go first. I had so many things wrong with me and he had nothing. His mother lived to be 100 and her father lived to be 96. Nick’s dad was a smoker, and he died at 80 from emphysema. Nick was rarely sick, he worked out four or five times a week, good blood pressure, ideal weight, well maybe 10 to 15 pounds more than he should be, but he looked great. How could this happen? That morning, I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do. Who should I call first? Should I call my kids? Would Giovanni be up? Maria? Should I call 911 or who? I just knelt there and memorized his face. Funny, I just told him the week before he died while we were looking at a family album that the picture of him in his thirties was the picture of him that I had in my head. Nick confessed, “Sometimes I am shocked when I look in the mirror and see my dad looking back at me, so it is good you still see me as a thirty-year-old.” I called David, figuring that he would be Maria’s strength. He was up early, and he could break the news to her. My voice was shaky when he answered the phone. “David.” He instantly knew something was wrong. “Kristy what’s wrong? Is it Nicholas?” I started crying again. I couldn’t stop crying. “I’ll get Maria.” “No! You tell her he’s gone.” I paused. “I will wait to call for the ambulance until after you are here.” David didn’t miss a beat, “We’ll be right over.” I was aware of the garage door going up. In my dream it just took seconds for them to travel three miles between the two houses. Maria came running down the hall yelling. What, I didn’t know. She ran past me to Nick’s side saying, “No, Daddy, no! I’m not ready for you to go.” She laid her head on his side. “Please Daddy please…Daddy, I love you,” she whispered. David came to her side. I heard soft crying from the door. That was when I noticed my grandsons standing there in their pajamas. David was talking. It took me a minute to realize he was talking to me. “Kristy,” he touched my arm. “Kristy, have you called 911?” I shook my head no. Maria stood up and, in a flash, she lunged at me. At first, she scared me then I realized she wanted comfort in my arms. Maria was almost pulling me down with her heavy heart. I kept saying I’m so sorry repeatedly. Maria was daddy’s little girl and she had him wrapped around her little finger. She just had to mention something, and he would get it for her. The truth was, he would tell me to get it for her. He got all the credit, and I was the dumb one who made sure she knew it was him who got it for her. My mind was wandering. I really couldn’t focus, Maria asked if I called Giovanni. I shook my head no. Oh, I was a terrible mother! I didn’t call Giovanni. He lived about ten hours away, so I knew he wouldn’t come right over. My heart hurt. I needed to sit down. I realized I was sitting in my chair in my room. Everything was swirling around me. I saw things happening. Maria talked on the phone; David took the boys over to say goodbye to their Nonno. Then the police, two ambulance attendants and a couple firefighters appeared in the bedroom. Everyone was talking to me, but I was not making any sense of what they were saying. Did I answer them correctly? David took over…thank God for David. They were wheeling Nick out. I couldn’t let them. I screamed, “NO!” Everyone’s attention turned to me. I worked my way out of my chair and went to Nick. I laid my head on his chest and said, “I will love you forever and a day.” Crying, Maria came to my side, “Mom, you need to let him go. They need to take Daddy to the hospital.” I couldn’t tell how long I laid there. I didn’t think it would bother anyone if I held on to him as long as I wanted. I couldn’t let them take my love out the door. What was I going to do without Nick? I just thought – God help me. God take care of him. I stood up and let them wheel him down the hall. I started to scream, “No, no, no!” And then I wake up at that point every time. I couldn’t understand why they were taking him to the hospital. It was not like I poisoned him or something. When his mom first lived with us, I said I couldn’t grow the striking Castor flowers because the seeds contained the poison ricin. If she died while living with us, believe me, they would have investigated her death. My mother-in-law did everything she could to get between Nick and me. I posted what I called my MIL sagas on social media. I didn’t remember much the following weeks after Nick died. I felt like I was walking in a fog. I remember seeing family and friends coming and going, but what they said went in one ear and out the other. If they started to cry, I cried. I really didn’t want to see anyone. Giovanni came home and took charge. Everyone was happy to step aside to let him deal with all the arrangements. Nick would have been so proud of him. Nick said he should talk to Giovanni about doing just what he did, take charge of the situation. I told Nick, “I should tell Giovanni to take charge because you wouldn’t know what to do if I died.” In the end, neither one of us did and we didn’t have anything to worry about. We forget that Giovanni was a good man, not a boy anymore. I tried to shake off the memories of that morning as I walked around my new apartment. Sometimes, it felt like yesterday and other times it felt like a lifetime ago. I hated that dream; it made me feel like I was reliving Nick’s death repeatedly. I wanted the dream would stop. 8. The decision to come I walked back into my bedroom to find my phone. I saw it was four a.m. I had hydrated well on the plane to counteract jet lag, but going to bed at seven p.m. was the worst idea. I should have tried to go back to sleep, but the uneasiness I felt had woken me up. I had things to do anyway. I was excited to go to the market to see what goodies I could find. Plus, I wanted to get to know the town where Nick wanted to live. While I cleaned, it brought up thoughts of when I cleared out Nick’s office. Maybe because all the dust that was in the apartment reminded me that Nick never dusted his office and had accumulated fifteen years of dust. A ton of his books were gone from the funeral. Someone had organized Nicholas’s books for people to take as they left the funeral. They were set up in the narthex. He thought that would help me get rid of all the books in his office. He said, “Just make everyone take a book at my funeral.” I thought it was a silly thing, but I guess the kids remembered that it was something he wanted. I couldn’t believe people actually took books. I had talked to his head of department about the stuff they needed. The last few years of his grade books were all. So, I had a plan: clear his hard drive; recycle old paper; throw away all his badges from conferences; pull out the last of the books to donate. I knew I should have called a book broker to see if they wanted any of his books, but that was another step I didn’t want to take. Collect all the books that he wrote. I knew I was going to throw away the faded picture of me from when we dated. I didn’t mind that he remembered me as an 18-year-old. When I walked into his office, I felt like I had walked into a Nicholas Museum. Everywhere I looked, it was him and his mess. The leftover books from the funeral were stacked next to the door. That part was easy. I sat in his mess for two hours while everybody on the floor came in to see me and tell me how sorry they were. If they started to cry, I would get up and hug them. By the end of the day, going through things was easier for me because I had less disruptions. I came across a file that said Future-Italy. I almost threw it into recycling because he kept files from all our trips. I knew the files from Macerata, Florence, Rome but Future that one didn’t sound familiar. For some reason I opened it. It was research he had done on places to live in Italy. I wondered why he hadn’t shown it to me. We talked about everything. Every time he would apply for a Fulbright we would talk extensively about where we wanted to live. I couldn’t lie, that hurt me. I skimmed through and saw that he had circled and starred multiple times the town of Cetraro, Italy. He underlined all the points I was sure he would have raised about why we should move there. Of course, his research was thorough. It would have been hard to say no. I just didn’t want to leave my family. When I had everything in order in his office, I texted the administrative assistant that the trash was near the door and the things they wanted were on the desk. I only brought home the books that he wrote figuring that the kids or the grandkids would want to have them. They had better want these, I said to myself as I lugged them out to my car. I also tucked the Italy file into a box. When I got home, I showered and ate a fried egg with toast. I looked at the box of books I had brought in and decided I would look through the Italy file. I pulled up the town on my computer and saw how charming the town looked. The sea pictures were breathtaking. The town was relatively close to his cousins, we could be there in a day. The train ran close by, and it would be easy to get to Fiumicino airport in less than seven hours. The trip down would be a beautiful train ride along the coast! I saw on the paper ‘Kristy loves water,’ and ‘Kristy loves mountains.’ Written next to the marina was ‘We love walking around Yachts.’ He thought of me, us! I closed the file with a snap. I smelled Nick’s cologne. How I missed him. I missed talking to him. I miss his touch, his laugh. Back to reality, I had cleaned what I could in the apartment without even thinking what I was doing. As I walked around, I felt pretty good about my progress. I cleaned the cabinets, refrigerator, the stovetop, the countertops, washed a load of towels with the couch cover and a load of sheets with the tablecloth, cleaned the bathroom and left the tub for when I showered. When I finally jumped into the shower it was seven a.m. I was glad I brought flip flops, laundry soap sheets, one towel, and washcloths. I needed all four items. In the morning, I examined the whole floor more closely. It looked like someone had brought in large buckets of sand and sprinkled it all over the apartment…yea, for flip flops. I knew some Italians used washcloths, but you never get them in hotels or rentals. I had brought my laundry soap sheets because we had started using them years ago to try to save on single-use plastic. I didn’t know if Italy had started using them yet. The towels were gross and needed to be washed. I would be using the ones here, but if I couldn’t get the smell out, I would be looking for a couple of towels at the market. 9. My Change As I combed my hair, I saw myself in the mirror. I had aged since that morning when Nick died. I said aloud, “Well, I am here, I might as well stay for three months.” My ghost got me here, but I made the decision to stay. I needed space between me and my home. Besides, Maria and David would be disappointed to move back into their home. It excited me to no end to see them settled in my home. The grandsons were so excited to have their own rooms. Almost as excited as when I told them that I paid for a hotel for the week in Cincinnati and bought some family tickets to the zoo, aquarium, and the water park. No, I didn’t spoil my grandsons. I also gave money to Giovanni and Michele to get some new things for the new house. I even sent money for the older boys to buy new things for their new rooms, plus enough money for new clothes for their new school. I tried to be fair. I kept thinking about what I had. I needed to stop that; it wasn’t good for me. Neither was having these dreams. The process you go through for grieving sucks. It was an emotional rollercoaster, and I was tired of it. I thought I was doing better, though there were still the littlest of things that made me cry or worse, angry. Back in Indiana I had started walking daily when I got overwhelmed with all the well-intentioned people who stopped by, mainly women telling me their stories of when their spouse died. I was invited out daily to have lunch with different groups of widows. I got mailings for support groups from people who lost their spouses. I was a part of a club that I never wanted to join. Good intentioned people kept stopping by, I was never alone in my thoughts. I had to get out of the house. I decided to try walking again. In my reading I came across a quote from St. Augustine: “It is solved by walking. What is “it”? If you want to find out, then you will have to do your own walking.” I took this quote literally. I loved getting out and walking, but with all my health issues I found excuses to put it off. I figured out that if I took my cane, I could walk a little, stop for a while, then walk more, I could be outside for the better part of the day. I would get up early and walk and walk. By two months, I had built up my stamina that I walked to the little towns around us. I still use my cane. Mainly because I was nervous. What if I was walking too much, I would need my crutch to get home. If I wasn’t walking, I read about how to let go of a loved one, what to do when you lose a spouse, and why God takes good people. I started to pray more and asked what was next. I tried to find my “it.” One day while I sat and enjoyed the flow of the river and the occasional bird swooping down to try to grab a fish. I kept going back to the dream I had the night before. Not my nightmare, but one I started to have after I opened the Italy file. It was such a fun dream. Nick and I were in the bedroom packing. Acting like teenagers going on spring break. Nick was kissing me and saying, “Please promise me you will give Italy a chance.” I said, “Okay I promise.” Nick replied, “I promise it will change your life forever.” He winked at me then kissed me on the neck in my special spot. When I had that dream, I felt warm inside. I wondered if that was Nick’s way of telling me to go to Italy. I loved going with him, but would I love it without him? I tried to pray, but my thoughts of Italy kept interrupting them. Fine, I would go live in Italy for three months. I would go for Nick and then decide what step to take in my new life. I could go and volunteer. I knew churches there had opportunities for volunteering. I felt like I had to call Giovanni and tell him of my idea. He answered on the second ring. “Hi, mom, is everything ok?” He said with some urgency. “Yes, I just wanted to talk to you. Do you have any time now?” “Yes, I have a few minutes before I have to go to a meeting,” I could hear the relief in his voice. “Well,” I took a deep breath, “I have been thinking about what I am going to do.” I heard an exhale and knew he thought I would take forever. So, I sped it up. “I am going to Italy and stay for three months. I found this file your dad had made up of research. I am going to live in Cetraro, Italy. This part is not up for debate. What I am calling you about is, would you mind if I had your sister, and her family move into my house while I am gone? I have thought this out.” I said the next thing faster because I knew I was trying his patience. “I will have the lawyer draw up a contract that says this will be part of her inheritance if anything should happen to me on the trip. I don’t want you to feel like you are being cheated out of anything. I don’t know if they even want the house permanently. I just know they can’t get out of their small house in the condition it is in. I think that they could clean it up and paint it while I am gone. Then my house wouldn’t be standing alone without anyone in it. I will be in Italy at my favorite time of year. I could put the house up for sale right now and I will if Maria doesn’t want to move in. I don’t want to offer this if this will upset you.” Giovanni cleared his throat. “Mom, you don’t have to ask me for permission. I say go ahead and ask her if she wants it.” “Thanks for your time. I know you are busy. I hope the boys and Michele are good after this move.” “Yes, yes everyone is good,” came the usual reply. “Though I would like to hear more about this trip. I need to go, mom. I love you and we’ll talk soon.” Everything went off without a hitch. I had my tickets, I even found an apartment online though I failed in not getting references, rented a car, updated my will, and moved a few boxes and some furniture I wanted to keep for my new place into storage. We even moved Maria, David, and the boys into the house. I felt good. Though when it came time for me to leave, I started to doubt that I was doing the right thing. Since I got to Italy, I wasn’t that scared…except during the night. I was ready to shop for my new apartment. I grabbed the cart and took off walking. I walked out of the complex of apartments; darn it, I had no idea where I was going. I knew where the main part of the town was, so I headed in that direction. Soon I saw old ladies with their carts heading northeast, so I followed them. Shoot, I realized I was one of those little old ladies with her cart but was I that old? I still have most of my original hair color with one large streak of white at the right temple and a little bit of white on the left temple. On men, people would say it was distinguished, but on women, not so much. I wondered if I used the pool every day if my hair would turn fire red like it did when I was younger. I looked forward to swimming again. Nicholas was not a swimmer. I could never figure out how someone who grew up in Florida did not learn to swim. He lived less than three miles from the beach! I never could pass down my swimsuit after the season was over. My mother put it best: my swimsuit was worn so much it rotted right on to me by the end of summer. 1 0. To Market to Market The market bustled with excitement. My spirit soared. I would need the energy to get through the day. I bought kitchen supplies. I wanted more than one bowl, three forks, two spoons; there were four plates, and they were all chipped. If I found friends that I wanted to have for dinner, I would buy new plates. I bought another frying pan because the one in the apartment had seen better days. I wished I had left my cane in the apartment. I could walk without it, but I felt more stable with it. Though sometimes it was just in the way. I bought more than I should, but it was so fun. I was hungry, and I had my eyes open for a bar or a bakery. Finally, I found a bar and went in for a pastry. I loved bars in Italy. They served coffee all day long though in the morning they had pastries, afternoon they had sandwiches. Of course, you could have alcohol at any time. I wished for an almond-filled croissant, but I couldn’t remember what they were called. Croissants were French and Italy didn’t make French things. The bar was full of people, and I wormed my way to the counter. I was rude because I insisted on bringing in my cart. I didn’t know how safe it would be to leave it outside. I was thrilled when I found out that they had a little sign for mandorle cornetti. I was pleased with myself that I knew mandorla meant almond. The main difference between cornetto and croissant was that the cornetto didn't have as much butter. I was ok with that. After losing so much weight I was thrilled to go buy something that was rich in calories and did not feel like someone was judging me. Here they would judge me because I didn’t want coffee, and I wanted to take it to go. After I took the first bite, I would be back. The cornetto was amazing. I might even have tea and sit next time. They could charge me extra to sit in that delightful piazza, eat an almond cornetto and drink a pot of tea. I looked at my cart and wondered, should I take it back and empty it or should I just hang the fruit and vegetables off the cart? I opted for hanging. The market would close soon, so I was off. I walked devouring the heavenly snack in search of the fruit and vegetable stand. I rounded the corner and up against the overpass was a stand with tons of people. The place had either the best prices, best produce, or the only produce. My bet was it had the best produce. I worked my way up to pull the number ticket then stepped back a little. I wanted to make my choices, practice my Italian in my head, people watch, and try to do it without them noticing me watching them. If we looked at each other at the same time, we had to have that uncomfortable bit of acknowledgement. It took me twenty years of visiting Italy to accept the fact that they prefer to acknowledge people they knew. I lost count of how many people I had made uncomfortable by saying “hi” or “good morning.” I noticed a guy was being rude by reaching over people and moving all around the stand. Great, the guy moved in front of me, and he smelled. I wanted to direct him to a shop that sold deodorant. Damn, then he butted in front of the nice-looking couple next to me. I glanced down as the nice-looking man backed into another gentleman and for a split second, I thought he was going to step on the gentleman’s toes. Instead, I saw the “gentleman” pull the nice man’s wallet out of his back pocket. I didn’t know what got into me. I took my cane and with all my strength smacked the thief’s hand and screamed “thief” as loud as I could. He dropped the wallet and yelped. The smelly man knocked into me, and I fell onto the thief grabbing a hold of his jacket to catch myself from falling. We stumbled together, both of us trying to gain our footing. While I had both hands on his coat, I yelled what I hoped was help, police. I screamed. “Aiuto polizia, aiuto polizia!” The man wiggled out of the coat while everyone around yelled at him. One woman had a bag with a muskmelon in it and whacked the man as he ran away. I was left with the man’s jacket, and I looked around at people like what in the world just happened. The nice little man tried to get everyone to stop yelling, and the nice little woman picked up her husband’s wallet and all the money that fell out. In English I said, “Should someone call the police?” I couldn’t even begin to think of the right words in Italian. The nice little man told everyone, “No, no polizia.” At least, I can respond in Italian “Perche? Why?” He looked at me with what I called cow eyes. He recognized me as an English speaker. “He is just a poor man trying to feed his family.” His wife added, “We see his kind all the time at the church. Usually just the wives and children because the men work the town for money.” The wife handed the wallet to the man, “Guido, it is all here.” They both looked up at me, “Thank you for stopping the pickpocketer.” With satisfaction, Guido added, “This was the money we saved for our daughter’s party. She just graduated from university.” “You are welcome.” That was all I could think of saying. Guido said, “Let me introduce myself. I am Guido Gallo, and this is my wife Chiara.” I looked at the wife, “That is one of my favorite Italian names. It has a lyrical sound to me. My name is Kristy Russo.” They both piped up, “That is an Italian name, Russo.” “Yes, my husband was Italian.” Chiara looked down and whispered “Was?” “Yes, he passed away a few months ago.” I might as well just tell everyone my husband of forty years was dead. Maybe I should wear a sign saying “widow” across it. Words I hated. I hated it more that he died. Both made the sign of the cross, “Oh Dio mio,” with very sad faces. Chiara suggested, “You should come to the party tonight.” “Yes, you saved the party.” The suggestion made Guido excited. As we had the small conversation people kept saying to me "grazie" or in English, "good job" and patted me on the arm or back. I was so distracted, out came, “I would love to.” Without thinking they probably just wanted to offer, not expecting me to say yes.

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.

< Back Grandma's Cinnamon Rolls Prep Time: 30 minutes plus rise time Cook Time: 30 Serves: 24 if your make them as directed Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 5 1/2 to 6 cups all-purpose flour 2 pkg Active dry yeast or quick-rise 1/2 cup sugar 1 1/2 tsp salt 1 cup milk 1 cup water 1/4 cup butter 2 eggs 1/3 cup butter, melted filling: 3/4 cup sugar 1/2 cup chopped nuts 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon glaze: 2 cups powdered sugar 3 tbs butter, melted 1/2 teaspoon maple flavor 3 to 4 tbs. hot coffee or maple syrup then I opt the maple flavoring Preparation 1 Preheat oven 375 2 In large mixer bowl, combine 2 cups flour, yeast, 1/2 cup sugar and salt; mix well. In saucepan, heat milk, water and butter until very warm (120-130 butter doesn’t need to melt). Add to flour mixture. Add eggs. Blend at low speed until moistened; beat 3 minutes at medium speed. By hand, gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough. Knead on floured surface until smooth and elastic, 5 to 8 minutes. Place in greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover; let rise in warm place until light and doubled, about 1 hour (30 minutes for quick-rise yeast) 3 Prepare filling: Combine sugar, nuts and cinnamon; set aside. Punch down dough. Divide into 2 parts. On lightly floured surface, roll or pat each half to a 12x9 inch rectangle. Brush each part with half of melted butter; sprinkle half of filling over dough. Starting with shorter side, roll up tightly. Pinch edge to seal. Cut into 12 slices. Place in greased 13x90inch cake pans. Cover; let rise in warm place until almost doubled, about 30 minutes (15 minutes for quick-rise yeast). Bake at 375 for 20 to 25 minutes until golden brown Drizzle glaze over hot rolls; cool. 4 Prepare Glaze: Combine glaze ingredients; blend until smooth. Previous Next

Romance books written by Kimberly Caristi. They are stories about romance, travel and food. If you love Italy you will love the pictures, stories and food. Unpublished Books: A Club I Never Wanted to Join My Summer A dventure My Mother Ruined my Life My Daughter thinks I ruined her life Crows Nest Life is... so many things The Winds of Wyoming Possibilities (Dart) The Diner

< Back Gougères Prep Time: twenty minutes Cook Time: 24 to 30 minutes Serves: 22 Level: easy About the Recipe Gougères are the perfect appetizer. It might be daunting to make if it is your first time to make a choux or cream puff pastry but after you make them you will say why haven't I been impressing my family and friends with these before. Ingredients 1 cup water 1/2 cup butter 1 cup all-purpose flour 4 eggs 1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg 1 1/2 cups coarsely grated cheese, such as Gruyère or another Swiss cheese (about 6 ounces, to be honest any cheese you can grate would be good.) Save a little of the cheese to sprinkle on top or if you are like me grate a little more cheese to sprinkle on top. Preparation Heat oven to 400°F. In 2 1/2-quart saucepan, heat water and butter to rolling boil. Stir in flour; reduce heat to low. Stir vigorously with a wooden spoon over low heat about 1 minute or until mixture forms a ball; remove from heat. Cool, slightly or you will get scrambled eggs when you add the eggs. Beat the eggs, then add all at once. Beat with an electric beater for about a minute then add cheese and nutmeg and continue beating until smooth. Using about 1 tablespoon of dough for each gougère, drop the dough from a spoon onto the lined baking sheets, leaving about 2 inches of puff space between the mounds. Wet your finger with water to pat down the little spikes of the dough. They don't have to be smooth. Sprinkle with extra cheese. Slide the baking sheets into the oven and immediately. If you have an oven that heats unevenly you can rotate after 14 minutes. Don't open the oven before then or your gougère will deflate. Total time for the bake is 24 to 30 minutes. Bake until the gougères are golden, firm, and, yes, puffed. Serve warm, or transfer the pans to racks to cool. I serve with jams (I love cheese and jams together), mustards and just plain. Enjoy. Previous Next

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 Adam 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.

< Back Biga Prep Time: ten minutes Cook Time: Serves: Level: beginner About the Recipe Many of the recipes for the classic regional breads begin with starter dough made from small amounts of flour, water and yeast allowed to initial fermentation and then used to infuse the actual bread dough. The starter, known as biga in Italy, not only gives strength and force to what in Italy are weak flours but also produces a secondary fermentation from which comes the wonderful aroma, natural flavor and special porosity of the final loaves and wheels of bread. I keep some biga on hand at all times—the contents of our refrigerator and freezer are definitely not the typical American vision with more inedible than edible contents. Still, by having it on hand, I can decide to make pane pugliese or ciabatta in the morning and have it for dinner that night. In Italy, bakers save saltless dough from the previous day’s bake to start a new dough. Because the first biga must come from somewhere, you may make it following the instructions below. This biga is remarkable. It freezes very well and needs only about three hours at room temperature until it is bubbly and active again. It can be refrigerated for about a week; after that it gets a bit strong. When using it in recipes, it is best to weigh it rather than measure it for it expands at room temperature. The bakers I admire most advise ten to eleven hours for the first rise and then another three hours after adding more flour and water, but others are very happy with the twenty-four hours it takes for dough to become truly yesterday’s dough. If you like sour bread, allow your biga to rest for twenty-four to seventy-two hours. The important point about a starter dough is that it is very close to natural yeast and the bread made with it develop a wonderful taste because their risings are long and bring out the flavor of the grain. Another benefit is that the loaves remain fresher and taste sweeter than those made with large amounts of commercial yeast. Ingredients Makes 2 1/3 cups (about 585 grams) ¼ teaspoon active dry yeast or 1/10 small cake (2 grams) fresh yeast ¼ cup warm water ¾ cup plus 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon water, room temperature 2 ½ cups (about 330) unbleached all-purpose flour Makes 3 ½ cups (about 750 grams) ½ teaspoon active dry yeast or 1/5 cakes (3 to 5 grams) fresh yeast ¼ cup warm water 1 ¼ cups plus 2 tablespoons water, room temperature 3 ¾ cups (500 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour Preparation Stir the yeast into the warm water and let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Stir in the remaining water and then the flour, 1 cup at a time. By hand Mix with a wooden spoon for 3 to 4 minutes. By mixer Mix with the paddle at the lowest speed for 2 minutes. By processor Mix just until a sticky dough is formed Rising Remove to a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise at a cool room temperature for 5 to 24 hours. The starter will triple in volume and still be wet and sticky when ready. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use. When needed, scoop out desired amount. Both recipes can easily be cut in half. Previous Next

Tanzi is a level headed chef who travels to Italy with her father. She meets best friends. One who is well breed and the other who annoys her. When she comes between these two she leave to travel around Italy only to find out what and who is important to her. Written by Kimberly Caristi Tanzi is a passionate chef who waits tables more than she cooks. After losing her boyfriend and the restaurant she is working in closed she travels to Italy with her dad and meets Kyle and Phillip. She falls for one then realizes that she loves the other. She comes to the conclusion that she needs to straighten out her life before she gets into another failed relationship. “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” – Mark Twain I found out very early on why. My parents were in love. What am I saying: they are in love! The kind of love that makes a young child gag, a young adult desperately want, and an old person cherish. I heard the story my whole life. On every anniversary my dad would start with a toast to my mom. She would blush, putting her hand on his and say, “You don’t have to tell our story every year.” My dad’s response, “How else will she learn what love truly is and what it takes to stay in love?” Yes, I was a part of their anniversary every year. I had to be because I was their cherished jewel that came out of their union. It was hard enough to be told that but they told everyone we met through my high school years. I so wanted to be the hidden jewel when that story was told. Secretly, I did like the story and maybe loved the story. I think that was why it hurt when they stopped for a couple of months. But I digress. This is their story that they told. My dad would start his story about how they ended up at the same fraternity party. My dad said it was love at first sight, my mom said, it was my dad’s perseverance. To hear my mom tell the story, my dad was your typical math guy. His personality was kind of boring. He wasn’t an outdoor person at all. He wasn’t the most outgoing person. My mom thought she wanted the life-of-the-party kind of guy. Mom was very outgoing and probably has never met a stranger. She thought she needed someone as open as her. Once I asked my mom why she thought he was kind of boring because I thought he was funny. Her response, “I think your dad and I have melded together after all these years. He became more open and I have settled down. I think in a good marriage you balance each other or you become one. Your dad and I became one.” What brought my mom around to start dating my dad was he wouldn’t give up on her. When he found out she was a landscape major he would show up at her dorm with a plant each week. He would tell her he found this plant that needed some love and thought of her. By the fifth week she was waiting to see what plant he would bring her. He never asked her out. He would just talk about how she would care for this plant. Ask her how her week went? Did she have any exams yet? Simple things like that. By week ten my mom’s roommate was tired of all the plants and made my mom ask my dad out. My mom didn’t think they would have things to talk about but dad proved her wrong. My dad loved to read so he started reading about landscape architecture the day after he met her. On their first date dad took mom to Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill not far from their campus at the University of Washington. There are so many parks in Seattle to pick from, but dad chose this one because it was designed by John Olmstead. His father, Frederick Olmstead was the man who designed Central Park. Since dad was from New York City he thought it was the perfect place for their first date. Their date didn’t start off well because dad was walking around telling mom all the details of the place that he had read. Dad could see mom was bored so he changed tactics. He started asking her questions about the plants they were seeing. They could actually have a conversation about everything. They both agreed that they thought the conservatory was the highlight of the park. The greenhouse was the perfect place to stroll through on a cold and damp afternoon. Because of all my dad’s reading it led my mom into a whole different area of studies. He asked her all kinds of questions that made her look up the answers. Her own research led her down a new path. She was still in landscape architecture; it was the area of concentration that changed. She had grown up on a farm and thought she would move back and help her brother and his family run the farm. Her brother had already taken over the farm from their dad. The Christmas break after meeting my dad, my mom talked to her brother about changing her idea of coming home and working with him on the farm. Uncle Bob just wanted her to be happy and he liked the idea of her study of the ecological landscape. He was all about trying to help the environment. He was in the process of changing the way he farmed. Now Uncle Bob has an organic farm that has little impact on the environment. It was more work but the whole family felt better about leaving this place, better than when they got here. My grandpa didn’t totally understand it, but my grandma said she loved what they had done with the farm. She said grandpa was an old man who hated change, but deep down he knew it was the right thing to do. My mom realized that my dad was quiet though he was really funny and so smart he could do anything he wanted. He retained everything he read. He was like a walking encyclopedia. You never wanted to play a trivia game with him unless you were on his team. This was one of their activities they did with a few friends. Whoever had the time for a game they would look around town to find a place to play. They have traveled over an hour to play a trivia game at some pub. This was the only time mom would eat out at a restaurant. It had to be a very conventional restaurant. She was a meat and potatoes kind of gal. Dad grew up trying all kinds of foods and loved them all. Life is a series of punches. It presents a lot of challenges. It presents a lot of hardship, but the people who are able to take those punches and are able to move forward are the ones that really do have a lot of success and have a lot of joy in their life and have a lot of stories to tell, too. — Josh Turner My dad had picked the Conservatory to have their wedding the day they saw it for the first time. He knew he was going to marry my mom after that first night, she just didn’t know it until two years after they started dating. They got married before mom graduated. It only took my dad three and a half years to get his degree in Data Analytics. He was hired right away by a large corporation. As soon as mom graduated, they started trying to have a baby. They thought they would have their four children right away, then mom could start on her masters before entering the workforce. They had given up on having any children after trying for five years. They went through a bunch of tests and nothing really showed up that would prevent them from having a baby. Mom decided to go back and get her masters then got pregnant that first semester back in school. She lost the baby after a couple of months. A year later she got pregnant again but lost that baby, too, after three months. She got pregnant after she graduated with her masters and they decided she wouldn’t go into the workforce and she was very careful but still she lost the baby. They decided that they wouldn’t try anymore and mom was hired at the university as an instructor and started consulting on the side. When my dad turned 30 my mom took a pregnancy test. That night they talked for hours about what they should do. They decided not to tell anyone until she was seven months pregnant. They thought both sides of the family would go through just as much grieving as they did and wanted to spare their feelings. Seven months later I was born two weeks premature. It was perfect, my mom said. She was able to get her final grades in for the spring term and had off the rest of the summer to care for me. They named me Tanzima because it means “A wonderful gift that has landed on earth from the heavens.” My parents are not Hindu. As I have already said, my dad reads all the time. Both of my parents were so happy to finally have a child and they really felt like I was a wonderful gift. I apparently was a very good baby that turned into a very gifted child to hear my parents talk about me. I was the only girl on both sides of the family so I was showered with attention and gifts from both sets of grandparents. My aunts loved to buy me dresses because they never got to shop in a section with so many options. Apparently, the boys’ clothes section in most stores are so small and not as cute as girls’ dresses. Sad to say there were no more babies after them. I was an only child with wonderful parents and an extended family. Life sometimes seems strange when two people who loved each other to the moon and back who wanted a huge family could only have one child. Plus, you would think they would have given their only child a name that wouldn’t confuse the whole world that wasn’t Hindu. I just went by Tanzi most of the time though it still confused people. Life is a lively process of becoming— Douglas MacArthur Uncle Kenny said that he was responsible for mom and dad getting together. When my dad was a teenager, he visited Uncle Kenny while he was stationed here. My dad fell in love with the area and applied at all the universities in the area. He took the one that gave him the best scholarship. Grandpa said that the base was calling all the Lewis men to town. He would go so far as to tell people that it was named after us. Dad’s parents moved out to Seattle after Grandpa retired from the fire department. Uncle Kenny was stationed out here at Lewis McChord and both he and his wife Louise fell in love with the area. When he got out of the air force they moved back and now he was a civilian working at the base. They lived in the beautiful little town of Dupont not far from Seattle. Mom’s parents lived about three and a half hours away. Mom says they lived the perfect distance away from us– close enough so that it was an easy drive but not close enough that they could drop in unannounced. We did a lot of cleaning before my grandma Thompson came to town. My mom loved my dad’s parents and they loved her. She didn’t care if they dropped in unannounced. They lived about twenty minutes away. They babysat me most of my life. Grandpa took me fishing and grandma taught me how to bake the best butter cookies ever. They would play any card game and most board games with me. Once a month grandma and sometimes grandpa would take me to an art museum. Grandma missed the art museums she went to in New York. She wanted me to have an appreciation for art. Grandpa wanted me to have an appreciation of fun. He was always cracking jokes, especially when grandma was getting too serious. When I was younger, he made going to museums fun because he would make fun of paintings. Grandma would get on grandpa when he was being ridiculous, though she would always laugh. I pretty much did whatever I was told and when I was told to do it. I never went through the terrible twos or threes. I never talked back. You could say that our life was pretty perfect. Both of my parents had great jobs. They loved each other to the point of making me sick. I could not handle the love talk or the hugs and kisses in front of me. I was always telling them to get a room. We were a family that exercised together, much to dad’s dismay. He thought he was doing enough work in the lavish garden that we had in the backyard, then mom got us all new bikes for Christmas when I was nine and we started biking all over the town. Then we started biking in the mountains when I was thirteen. Dad was the one who suggested biking in the mountains, which surprised my mom. He was liking this biking thing after all and he was feeling so much better, plus his clothes were getting baggy on him. He liked his new look. I didn’t notice that he was overweight. I think his suits must have hidden things. Mom liked that she felt more fit biking, too. I just liked biking and running. In junior high I signed up for Cross Country and was pretty good at long distance running. Mom and dad started running too. We would run before work and school three days a week. My dad wanted to make sure that I was well rounded so I attended math and science camps in the summer. He just knew that I was going to be this math wizard because I could do fractions when I was five. I loved figuring out fractions. Especially in orange season, I loved dividing them up and figuring out what was a half, fourth, eighth and if I was lucky twelfths. My mom wanted me to help her in the garden and she would tell people that I got my green thumb from her. I really didn’t understand the green thumb until I was a teenager. I thought, well all my fingers were green from working in the garden. What was she talking about? It was not just my thumbs that were green. One day dad and I were listening to “A Way with Words” on the radio and I heard them talking about the origin of green thumbs. I did like working alongside my parents in the garden or house. I truly just loved being with them. Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken — D.H. Lawrence When I became a teenager, I was trying to decide what I was going to study in college. I had so many interests and my grades were straight A’s. My dad said I could write my ticket anywhere I wanted to go. One day my friend Emily and I were watching the movie Julie and Julia. I thought it was so cool that this woman took a cookbook and blogged about a recipe every day. Emily and I thought it would be fun to do just that, plus we both loved Meryl Streep and thought she did a really good job portraying Julia Child. We took one of my mom’s cookbooks and decided to try making everything in the cookbook though we didn’t blog about it. We put the finished dishes on our social media account. We did more than one recipe a day. Some days we would make a whole dinner for our family. It was really fun. Emily got tired of doing it after a couple of weeks. I didn’t, I started making dinner for my family every night. I already had a love of food from my dad. Going out to dinner with my dad had been our thing. Once a week we played roulette with restaurants we wanted to try. Dad made a roulette wheel that we put names on a posted note and stick them on the spaces then we would spin the wheel. When we landed on a space, we pulled the note off and added a new one. If we really liked the restaurant, we put the name back in the rotation after a couple of months. If we happen to want to try out a steak place, we invited mom. Both of my parents loved that I started making dinner because I essentially made their lives easier. I started to experiment with what dad bought at the store. He had started to buy unique items to see what I would come up with. Mom would even try the food I made and say she liked it. I knew she loved her steak and potatoes so I didn’t experiment every day. We were all having fun with my culinary excursions until the beginning of my senior year when I started to tell them I thought I might go to culinary school instead of college. This was the first time I heard my dad yell at me. He had never raised his voice to me, ever. My mom didn’t intercede on my behalf, which really upset me. She was always telling me as long as I was happy it didn’t matter what I wanted to study. Dad said he wasn’t going to pay for my culinary education if that's what I was going into. The next day I got a job as a waitress in a really nice restaurant. I was going to pay for my schooling on my own if they wouldn’t. I loved the idea of becoming a chef even more while working that year. I would be in the kitchen before my shift watching and helping if they would let me. I learned a lot from the sous-chef. She was so nice, letting me help. She told me what school to apply to and encouraged me along the way. Jess told me to get a four-year degree so I would know the business part as well as how to cook. She was told by her mentor to do just that. Jess thought you would become a better chef in the long run with a four-year degree. Jess also suggested that I work in different restaurants to get a feel of what kind of food I wanted to cook. There are so many levels between Haute meaning traditional, to nouvelle, to fusion or going the molecular gastronomy route. What ethnic food did I want to cook? I had no idea so I quit that job and started working at a Chinese restaurant since I loved Chinese food. That lasted a few months because I wasn’t allowed to help in the kitchen. I still talked to Jess every time I moved to a new restaurant. I loved working in the Greek Restaurant because I loved the people and the food. I hated to leave them but I found a small restaurant willing to let me work in the kitchen. I loved the German food but I knew if I made this food a steady diet I might not fit into my jeans for long. I also learned I was not going to make much money working in the kitchen to cover the cost of culinary school. I went back to waiting tables and hanging out in the kitchens. My parents were both disappointed that I did not change my mind by the time I graduated from high school. I graduated with a 4.0 and had a bunch of colleges sending me information that I didn’t request. I wasn’t sure if it was my parents that sent away for the information or the colleges just sent it. I didn’t care. Our idyllic life was no longer. My parents still refused to pay for my college education even though I told them I was going to go to a four-year program that would earn a Bachelor of Science degree. They wouldn’t listen to me. It was like a switch went off in their head if I tried to talk to them about it. I could see it in their eyes the far off look they gave me. It was like they were looking through me instead of at me. I had enough of the fighting and moved out one summer afternoon when they were at work. That went over like a lead balloon. They texted me repeatedly to come home so we could talk. I left a lengthy letter explaining why I moved out. I didn’t want to discuss this anymore. Life is a matter of really tough choices — Joe Biden This was the beginning of me living out of a suitcase. Whatever fit into my car was all I accumulated. If I couldn’t fit it in my car, I didn’t want it. Yes, I took the car my parents gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It was my present after all. As soon as I could, I took over the insurance for it. I decided I was going to be independent and I needed to pay for everything. My parents told me that I still was covered under their plan for my health insurance but I paid for the stitches that I needed to get. A health hazard when working in a kitchen with sharp knives. I knew health insurance was expensive and I was thankful that I was covered. Otherwise, I would have gone without insurance. I couch surfed for a couple of months until I found a few people who needed someone to rent a small bedroom. I was not a fan of sharing a bathroom, a first for me. I was a pretty neat person and two of the guys were always getting in trouble for leaving the seat up and leaving the bathroom a mess. When we females started throwing the trash in their beds, they got the hint that they’d better clean up their act. I was the youngest but they called me grandma because I was so careful how I spent my free time. I was always studying or working. I ran early in the morning, sometimes a couple of hours after they went to bed. I made the decision to work the first year out of high school to earn my independence so college would be cheaper. It took a few months and grandpa and grandma Lewis had to intervene on my parents’ behalf for me to talk to them again. My grandparents and I went out to an art show to be followed up with dinner at our favorite restaurant. They had started going to the Greek restaurant that I had worked in and we continued to eat there after I left. The Greek family still considered me family and was happy that we still came to their restaurant. We usually had dessert on the house. They made the best baklava I have ever eaten. My grandma agreed with me that it was the best. We walked into the restaurant and I couldn’t believe my eyes – there sat my parents. The look on their sheepish faces told me that they knew all about this. I felt like I had been betrayed by my grandparents. What was worse, I couldn't leave because my grandparents had picked me up. My grandma took me aside when she saw me hesitate. “Tanzi, you are going to have to talk to them sometime. This has been going on too long. We are going to sit here like five adults that we are and we are going to hash this dispute out.” She made me look her in the eyes. “Do you understand me?” I knew she meant business. “Yes, ma’am.” I looked into her eyes to see if my next statement would connect. “Did you say the same thing to them because they were not listening to what I had to say? That is why I left.” “Oh, honey, they got a very long lecture from me when you left and last night when I stopped by their house.” She gave me a huge smile and then one of the best hugs I have had in months. Well, we sat down with my parents and things were a little strained at first. Then my grandpa Lewis started making really bad jokes and the mood changed. We had a very nice dinner, even mom enjoyed the food. I told her what to order and she really liked it. Even though it was chicken she thought maybe I could cook it for them some night when I moved back. I could tell that I hurt them again when I told them that I wasn’t moving home. This brought on a whole discussion about what it meant to be independent and I was prepared for it. When I told them I had met with our insurance guy about taking over the insurance for the car the other day, they were shocked. When my dad recovered from the shock he was impressed. He turned to my mom and said our little girl has grown up. They were happy to keep paying for the car, which I was happy about. My life is a struggle — Voltaire I was working my fingers to the bones taking any overtime when I could get, sometimes working two jobs and taking classes at a community college. I knew I wanted this four-year degree but it was going to be expensive. The only help I was getting was verbal advice from Jess and every once in a while, a chef would make a comment to me about what I should be doing. I took everything that was told to me and made a diagram to my end goal of getting a BS in a culinary school. I knew I was going to be in debt for a long time. I really didn’t care, though I had no idea what I was really getting into. Everyone was in debt, right? It was nothing new. I just knew I wanted a BS and I was going to do it on my own. I told my parents that I applied to the CIA and was accepted. I was excited to report that I got a scholarship. My parents were in disbelief. They sat there with their mouths hanging open. “What about cooking? I thought you wanted to be a chef.” I started laughing, “The CIA is the Culinary Institute of America. Did you really think I was going to be a spy?” It was a good laugh until they found out it was in California. They had hoped I would stay up here in Seattle. I assured them that Seattle was my home. I would be back because there were so many good restaurants around here that I knew I could get a job back here when I finished. I said my goodbyes to everyone and drove my Prius down to Napa. My scholarship did not cover all expenses and really quickly my credit card bills started to pile up. I didn’t know how it happened that I was getting into so much debt. I was working while going to school. I wasn’t into clothes. I didn’t eat out much: between work and school, food was pretty much covered. After a year I told the school I couldn’t afford it anymore and moved back home. I missed my family anyway. I was glad I did. My grandpa Lewis died about six months after I moved back home. He was the light to everyone. He was so smart and quick-witted. Even though some of his jokes were lame we still laughed. He was so full of wisdom that everyone sought him out when they had a problem. We were all like lemmings. We followed him around. He gave the best hugs and the twinkle in his eye would make you feel better in an instant. Dad, Grandma and Uncle Kenny were so heartbroken it was difficult to watch. I busied myself in the kitchen making food for everyone who stopped by. Grandpa had so many friends here and I don’t know how many flew in from New York. We almost needed a traffic cop for all the people stopping by. Since Grandpa moved here, he and Grandma still helped out at the fireman picnics and brought dinner to the stations. We had no idea how involved my grandparents had gotten since moving here. I think they have more friends than my parents. Grandpa was buried with some Firefighter honors. He was a true hero saving so many lives. The evening before his funeral we read through some of the thank you letters that he received after a save. It really warmed my heart to read some of those letters. We picked out a few of the letters to read at the funeral. Grandpa thought it was funny that he wanted to be cremated and would make bad jokes about it all the time. It turned out to be really funny when the fire truck was our escort to the crematorium where he was going to be cremated. Uncle Kenny said that was our last joke that grandpa would play on us. We were laughing and crying at the same time. I assume for all different reasons. Grandma Lewis was so confused the whole time. She just went where we told her to go and sit when we told her to sit. Since I was the only girl child I stayed with Grandma and helped her dress and undress. For being an old lady, she still had a figure in a dress but seeing her almost naked was a real eye opener. I didn’t understand why she was so out of it until my mom took me aside and told me she heard you can only think about ten percent of your ability after a death. Grandma and grandpa had been married sixty years and had known each other their whole lives, having grown up on the same block in New York City. The death was a total shock so grandma was probably unable to think at all. After the funeral I was spending more time at grandma’s than I was in my own apartment. Grandma finally talked me into moving into her spare bedroom. I told her I would pay her rent or I wouldn’t move in. She agreed though she made sure I knew she wasn’t happy about it. She knew my schedule was very tight between going to school and work so she made no demands on me. When we were together and I wasn’t studying we would play cards or she would show me a movie she thought I would like. We were ideal roommates. We were both clean, well-mannered and quiet. Grandma worried about me because I wasn’t dating. I told her I didn’t have time to date. Besides, all I met were restaurant people and I knew I would never marry any of the guys I met at work. They were either poor, worked all the time, drank too much or did drugs. None of these things made a man attractive to me. I didn’t mind going out on group dates with the guys from the restaurants. There was a clear understanding of where I drew the line on what I was willing to do or go when I was with them. I didn’t want to be around drugs which they understood and if they did them while we were together, they did a pretty good job of not letting me see it. Because of my reluctance to date men in my field, grandma would try to set me up with sons of firefighters she met. Grandma would pull me to this or that function if my schedule would allow. She wasn’t very smooth about it either, which was so embarrassing for me. I just wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide. Sometimes I would agree to go on a date, sometimes both the guy and I would feel the pressure to say yes. A few of the guys I went on more than one date, but what guy wants to go out on a date with a woman that needs her sleep and works forty hours a week and goes to school part time? Our hours of free time rarely worked out. I did find a running partner on one of the dates, but this was all we did together. We met in a group on Saturday mornings around seven and ran, then went to a cute little coffee shop and had breakfast afterwards. I have met some really nice people in this group. Life is a bunch of ups and downs. It's how you handle it —Baker Mayfield My mom and dad lived a very healthy life running, biking and eating healthily. They only drank on weekends and it was the night they went to trivia. Dad had one drink and mom had two. Dad was the designated driver. When we went out to dinner, we each had a glass of wine that complimented the meal. I was getting pretty good at pairing wine with dinner now through my education in the classroom and the restaurants I worked in. Dad was having more trouble keeping up with my mom when they were exercising and one day dad just didn’t have the energy to run. Mom made him go to the doctor as soon as he could get in, which was a couple of weeks. Mom went with him, which I knew was a sign that she was scared. I begged her to text me as soon as they were finished with the doctor. When I didn’t hear from her, I knew something was up. When I got home from school their car was in the driveway. Instantly I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind that makes you afraid to move because you might throw up. I sat there in my car in the driveway, not moving. My mom finally came out of the house to get me. She helped me out of the car and I clung to her afraid to let go. “Tanzi, it is going to be alright. There is a good chance he will beat this.” That was all I remember from that night. Oh, I also remember the words Hodgkin's lymphoma. Two words I had never heard before and wished they were never a part of my vocabulary. My head was spinning all night. After I held onto my dad for what seemed like hours listening to them talk about the cancer and the plans to get dad cancer free, I had to go to work. I was messing up left and right at work and they sent me home. I asked if I was fired and they laughed. Apparently, I was their best worker. I thanked them and went home and did my own research on Hodgkin's lymphoma. I had gotten into the Washington State University culinary program and was happy there. Doing this research on cancer I came across Bastyr University and saw that I could get a bachelor of science degree in nutrition and culinary arts. I liked the idea of the holistic approach I could take there. I applied that night. I was hoping I wrote coherently because it was after two a.m. and I am not great after midnight. I didn’t know what I was doing, letting myself go deeper and deeper into debt. I just knew what my passion was and it was cooking and my family. My scare with my dad showed me I needed to be around my parents more. Okay, now I was spreading myself thin as could be with work, school and seeing my parents more. I finished out the semester at WSU and started at Bastyr the next semester. Now I would be learning about all the holistic approaches to eating. I was making my dad eat better. I didn’t have to change much but I was feeling better that I was making food he could take to work for lunch so no more eating out at whatever restaurant that fit into his schedule. Since I moved out my dad would put money into my savings account, when he saw the amount drop below a thousand dollars. He thought he was sneaking money to me without me knowing. They set up my account when I was ten and our savings accounts were connected. If I wanted to, I could have put money into their account as well. I thought about putting the money back that he was transferring but instead I would transfer that amount into another savings account. This saving was increasing by leaps and bounds while I was in school. I couldn’t wait until I was out of school, then I could start paying off my debt and I would feel better about my situation. It was hard not to take this money and pay off some of my debt but I was bound and determined to do this on my own. Besides, I had plans for this money that I was saving. I wanted to take dad on a trip to Italy. I didn’t know this when I started to put it in a new savings account, I just knew I wanted to take him on a trip. During my dad’s chemo I made him food that would help with the sickness from the treatments. At least, I hoped it was helpful. He always had a brave face for us. One day dad caught a cold which scared mom and me. We were so afraid of any sickness. We were right to be scared because the cold went into his chest and he ended up in the hospital for a few days. This was when I decided we were going to Italy. While we sat with him in his hospital room, he talked about wishing he had gone to Italy. Mom told him she was sorry she kept him from traveling. She promised she would make it up to him when he got better. During this time, I felt so bad for my mom. She was so full of guilt. My grandma Thompson was sick on the other side of the state and with my dad going through chemo she didn’t feel like she could go home. I finally talked her into going home when dad was finished with his last chemo. Well, we were hoping it would be his last one. He still had many doctor appointments and scans to have, so we were keeping our fingers crossed. I stayed with dad while she went home. Dad said he didn’t need a babysitter but mom said she wouldn’t go unless someone was here with him. He was happy to have me stay with him if she would finally go see her mom. Mom ended up staying a couple of weeks because grandma was worse off than her family let mom know. Grandma Thompson passed away with all of her family by her side. A couple of days before her death mom called to say grandma was bad. Dad and I both called work to tell them we wouldn’t be in. We drove through the night to be with mom and of course to see grandma. Grandma was in and out of consciousness. On one occasion when grandma was coherent, she took her wedding ring off her finger and gave it to me. She whispered, “I want you to have all my jewelry but this one is the most important piece. When a man wants to replace this ring, you make sure he is worthy of it. Make sure he is as good as your grandfather. If he was half the man your dad is, you have a keeper.” I didn’t know what to say. I looked up at my dad and he was crying, which made me cry. I just laid my head on grandma’s chest and told her how much I loved her and I would make sure that I got a good man. We were all in grandma’s room telling stories about growing up and laughing when my mom turned to grandma and noticed she wasn’t breathing anymore. She had a smile on her face. When I say she passed away she really did just pass away. I had heard stories about people dying and some of them were terrifying. If I had a choice, I wanted to be surrounded by family telling funny stories and just pass away like she did. I drove mom’s car back the day after the funeral. Dad and mom stayed for another week. I got home and opened up my suitcase to find my grandma’s jewelry box in there. I hadn’t taken anything but her wedding ring which I still had on my finger. My mom must have put it in my suitcase. The jewelry box wasn’t big because, let’s face it, grandma was a farmer. You can’t wear a lot of jewelry around the farm, just like a cook can’t wear jewelry when working with knives and flames. The pieces of jewelry she did have were nice pieces. I really liked her wedding ring plus what she called her cocktail ring. The cocktail ring had a huge black onyx with little diamonds all around it. She had a couple other rings and when I put them on my fingers, I thought they looked funny. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them. I just wasn’t used to seeing rings on my fingers. She had a beautiful tennis bracelet that Grandpa Thompson had given her on their sixtieth wedding anniversary last year. She wore it every day since she wasn’t working on the farm anymore. She loved showing it off. Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though sometimes it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and grieves which we endure help us in our marching onward. —Henry Ford I sat there looking at my grandma Thompson’s jewelry thinking I probably could sell it all and pay a huge chunk if not all of my debt off. I flopped down on my bed to really think about it. This really was grandma’s jewelry, not mine. I couldn’t sell it. I took a deep breath. My family would disown me if I did something like that. My cousins had girlfriends that they would probably marry since they had been together forever. They probably wouldn’t have minded having grandma’s wedding ring to give to their girlfriends. I guess I was stuck with them. I didn’t know when I would wear them. I put everything back in the box and put the box in my underwear drawer. I kept getting bill after bill and I kept working hard. I had one semester left and I would graduate from college. It had only taken me ten years to graduate. I didn’t know what to do now. Dad was doing great. He only had to go to the doctor once a year now. Mom and dad have taken a couple of trips since he was feeling better. It drove me nuts when they came home. It was like they weren’t on the same trip. Their stories were so different. What hurt was they didn’t see that I would have given anything for a vacation or even just a long weekend away. I just kept plugging away at work and studying pretending everything was alright. Grandma Lewis had stopped setting me up, which thrilled me to death. I didn’t have time for anything right now. My parents decided to plan a graduation party for me which I thought was stupid but I didn’t want to cause any waves so I went along with it. Graduating was such a relief: no more paying money out of pocket to get an education unless I decided to go for a master’s or doctorate. Sometimes I thought about it because I was not sure where I wanted my life direction to go. Did I get a job at a hospital, work as a private chef, or keep working in a restaurant? I could throw in some more options but I got overwhelmed when I started looking for a job. I made the decision to keep working at the restaurant right now. I had a job on the line in a boutique restaurant that offered local food and craft beer. I made more as a server. This was frustrating for me. Something unexpected happened at my graduation party. I met a friend of my dad’s son. He had just moved back from the east coast. We hit it off right away. He liked my sense of humor, which I knew was an acquired taste. Grandma was happy to see that I was dating more than once every couple of months. Because of my hours at work, we had to get creative with his work schedule so we could go out on a date. At first, we were doing great, making time for each other, then Tim started to complain about my work schedule. I started to look around for a job that would fit a normal work schedule. Really a job that would fit his work schedule. When I found a day job and put in my two-week notice, my boss said he was going to offer me the sous chef job when Sandy, our sous chef got her head chef job at his new restaurant. It was hard for me to pass that up. I knew it would be only a few more months but I didn’t think Tim would be able to handle much more of me working there. It broke my heart that I had to give it up. Grandma Lewis wasn’t happy when I told her about it. “Why are you changing your life for this guy? You worked hard to get where you are. Do you think he would change his job to suit you?” All I could tell her was I was trying to live a normal life whatever that was. My new job was not as great as my old job. The people were not as fun to work with. It really felt like a job not a passion. After a couple of months, I was looking for a new job. Tim was putting more demands on me, too, like expecting me to always cook for him instead of taking me out to eat. He didn’t understand when I complained about not getting any time off of work. I got a new job where I got to be on the line prepping food and serving part-time. It was a new hip restaurant that was just starting up. The people I met were very nice and were joking with me right from the start. They didn’t know if I was a real chef because I didn’t have any tattoos they could see. I said I was starting a new look for chefs. I was going back to the Julia Child era. I said this in my perfect Julia Child imitation. Only a couple of people knew who Julia Child was but I wasn’t going to hold it against them. I was looking forward to this new endeavor. I wasn’t always free when Tim wanted me to be but I told him to get used to it. I had this new opportunity and I was taking it. The job and Tim were starting to fail after six months. I didn’t know which one was going to end first. I didn’t know which failure was going to hurt me more. I had pretty much had it with Tim and his demands. He was taking way more than giving and I was tired of it. It pissed me off that he broke up with me before I had a chance to break it off with him. He went on a vacation without me and never told me he was going. I got a text from him telling me he left for Colorado on a ski trip. That was it. I couldn’t believe he went on a trip without me! When he came back, I was going to end it. He had the gall to send me a selfie of him and another woman on a mountain telling me it was over between us. I scared Grandma to death when I let out a blood curdling scream. She came running to my room ready to find an intruder or me bleeding to death. I have never heard my grandma cuss before when she opened my door to see me pacing back and forth. “Damn you Tanzi. What the hell is the matter with you?” I couldn’t say a word, I was fuming. I finally showed her the picture Tim sent. “Can you believe him? After all I did for him!” “Well, he can go to hell then.” I started to laugh, “Grandma I never heard you cuss before. Have you been hanging around my people too much?” “I guess I have. Your grandfather would have been proud of me cursing. He said I was too prim and proper for too much of the time.” I gave her a hug. “You are just the right amount of everything Grandma.” I think our life is a journey, and we make mistakes, and it’s how we learn from those mistakes and rebound from those mistakes that sets us on the path that we’re meant to be on. — Jay Ellis The restaurant only lasted another couple of months after my break up with Tim. I went down with the ship. I couldn’t leave. The people were so nice but they were in a bad location, but most of all they were ill equipped to run a restaurant. I tried to help and I thought the pride they had prevented them from taking help or suggestions from anyone. The failure of the restaurant happened at the same time Dad was coming up on his five-year check on being cancer free. I was turning thirty in a month. I really had no money in my savings account but I did in the savings account that I set up with his money he had given me, I had enough to give my dad and me a wonderful trip. I talked to my mom about it and she really didn’t want to go. Besides, she had a big project she was finishing up and couldn’t leave. I thought she was just saying this so I would go with my dad alone. She thought it would be a wonderful gift to give dad. Just the two of us going somewhere. I talked to grandma about it, too. I said when I came back. I would look for a job and would she mind if I didn’t pay her rent this month and maybe next month. She was fine if I didn’t pay any more rent at all. I assured her while I was gone, I was going to decide how to use my degree the best I could and find a real job that I could see a future in. She was so happy that I was planning a trip with dad. I told her she could come along if she wanted. No, she wanted dad and me to have a special trip. Dad came home with great news. No more cancer! I made a special dinner for all of us. I even invited Uncle Kenny and Aunt Louise. Grandma Lewis was my date for the evening. I wished all my dates were as understanding as her. During the dessert of tiramisu, I made a toast. “To Dad, may he never have cancer again. For that matter may none of us ever have to say cancer again.” Everyone cheered to that toast. “Dad, I have a gift for you to celebrate.” I handed him an envelope. “What’s this?” He was looking around at everyone. “Do you know all that money you thought you were sneaking into my account? Well, I put it in another account then into CDs. I have a great teacher.” I patted his hand. “We are using this to take a trip to Italy…just you and me with a lot of Italian food and wine for two weeks.” “No, you should have used that money for school.” “You told me that you weren’t paying for my schooling.” “Well, I was wrong. You should take this money and pay off your debt.” “Too late, you already have two weeks off. Mom and I talked to your boss. You have a few days to tighten up loose ends then it is me and you flying off to beautiful Italy.” Dad looked around the room at everyone smiling so big and he shook his head and said, “Buon viaggio everyone.” Then he raised his glass in a toast. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you as a daughter.” I got out of my chair and went over to give him a huge hug and a kiss. Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it. — Sai Baba This trip was to be a special vacation with my dad. A celebration of life though it turned out way more than that. In many ways it was the beginning of my story. A whole new world opened to me the minute we stepped off the plane. I rented a car with a manual transmission. I had learned how to use a stick when I learned how to drive, then my parents bought me a Prius that was automatic. It was a little shaky pulling out of the parking lot but I never stalled. Dad wanted me to drive because he was afraid he would drive too slow for the Italians. He knew they drove fast. He had done his research before leaving Seattle, plus he read most of the flight. We were both tired and the drive to Lake Como was a little difficult. It had taken us the better part of a day of travel to get to this point. We tried all the tricks we knew to have a successful flight. We ate very healthy the week before and kept hydrated. On the plane we drank a lot of water, too. I was glad we traveled first class so we were not climbing over people to go to the bathroom. We took a sleeping aid to make sure we slept. Still, we both were tired. I think we should have gone for a run before we got in the car. Instead, we went for a run when we got to our hotel. “Okay, Dad I will meet you downstairs when you are ready. I am going to stretch out front until you get there. It is such a beautiful day I don’t want to miss any of it.” “I will race you downstairs because I was thinking the same thing coming up in the elevator.” I walked into my room and I couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. Dad insisted that I get the room with a view of the lake. I have a little balcony that we could sit and have a coffee on in the morning. I walked around the room and touched everything. The room was filled with antique furniture. The wood was honey brown and with the walls a dusty rose, it is hard not to wish I could just stay in the room. The silk comforter was just a beautiful maroon with pearl color roses throughout. I ran my hand across the comforter and thought what it was going to feel like to lie down on it. I knew tonight would probably be an early night, then we would get on schedule. I was looking forward to going to sleep tonight. I beat dad downstairs by seconds. I ran down the stairs and he took the elevator. I told him he cheated and he reminded me this whole trip would be a cheating experience. He was only running because I was making him or he would be lying down on his beautiful bed. He told me I would have to check out his room. He might not see the lake, nevertheless the view was breathtaking. We took a lovely run down by the lake. Both of us kept pointing out things and it was hard to run and sightsee at the same time. We had to go off the trail once when dad saw a gelateria. We sat there looking at the mountains and the water, eating two dips of gelato. My new favorite flavor is amarena. I had never had anything like it. I loved sour cherries and chocolate together. The woman serving asked if I wanted an amarena with the chocolate swirled through it. Oh, I was in heaven. It would be hard to try a different flavor. Dad loved it, too. I thought his pistachio was good though two dips would have been too much for me. He didn’t have any trouble getting them down. We both couldn’t wait until the next time we got to have gelato. Dad suggested my flavor would be good in coffee. My dad and I made perfect travel partners. We loved trying what the other ordered. When we finished the run, we went back to the hotel to shower and dress for the day. We both felt better after the run. I thought the gelato helped, though now we were off to find a restaurant for lunch. Dad said he planned to eat his way through Italy and worry about it later. He would run each morning with me but I was to plan on eating a lot while we were here. I set up a cooking class for tourists in Bologna as a surprise for him. I wouldn’t mind taking a class in making Italian food. I was just excited about going to Bologna for the food. We were stopping in Modena and Parma on the way down there next week. I knew dad has wanted to come to Lake Como since he read a couple of books that take place here. I was the one that wanted to go to the Emilia Romana region. I had to be careful not to wish my time away while here. I really needed to be in the moment. We had asked the desk manager at the hotel where to go for lunch. He was more than happy to tell me about this little hole in the wall restaurant. He thought we would like it. We almost missed it because we were gawking at everything in sight. It was so beautiful here. I was thinking I could move here in a minute. I thought my dad felt the same way. We walked into the restaurant and the whole place was wood paneling and the table and chairs matched the paneling. I wouldn’t have decorated this restaurant like this but it must work for them. It has been a restaurant for over a hundred years. We were seated where we couldn’t even see out the one window. I was a little nervous because neither of us really spoke Italian. Dad had two years of it in college, which was a long time ago. You could smell the grease from the kitchen so I thought we were going to have something fried. Dad asked for the specialty of the house and something else for her…pointing to me. I gave dad’s toe a kick and thought the next time I was ordering for him. When the waitress left, I said, “You have no idea what we will get. We could end up with tripe. I knew I was supposed to be adventurous, nevertheless the lining of a cow’s stomach didn’t sound like something I wanted to be my first dish in Italy.” “Do you really think we will get tripe?” “I know they eat it here.” “Should I call her back?” Now, he looked a little worried. “No, but if we get tripe, you are eating most of it.” “I will give it a try. I think your mom would because it comes from the cow. What do you think?” “I don’t think you know mom at all. She would never eat it.” I just shook my head at him. Sweetheart, I have never seen you with jewelry on. Is that all from your grandma Thompson?” “I never get to wear rings so I decided that I would wear them all,” smiling so brightly. It made me feel closer to her and a little more ladylike. She would always talk about being more ladylike. I needed to wear more dresses and jewelry, she would say. I was fingering my locket when I realized that I didn’t show him what I did with it. Opening it up, “Dad, mom is with us on this trip.” I had taken one of my favorite pictures of them and put mom on one side and dad on the other. “Oh, honey, that is so sweet. I love that picture. Mom looks so beautiful. I think that was taken before I got cancer. My hair in that picture is my real hair.” “Dad, you still have hair. Yes, it might be curlier than it used to be and a lot grayer. You should be happy you still have hair. Several of my friends' dads have lost their hair, and they didn’t have cancer.” The woman brought us a little plate of fried fish that she called Shad. We will have to look that one up. She spelled it for my dad. I knew he would remember it. It was a little salty. Even so it was delicious on the bread. I thought they made their bread. It was so fresh and tasty. When the woman set a plate of creamy polenta with another kind of lake fish in front of my dad, he had the biggest smile. We were able to figure out that dad had perch on the polenta. I got a pork cutlet pounded out perfectly with roasted potatoes. We had made the deal to switch after we had eaten half and both of us were a little reluctant. We both were pleasantly surprised that we enjoyed the other dish as well, even though it wasn’t as hot. Next time we agreed we would just split the dish right away. Both of us were happy that we asked where to eat. We would have never seen this place. We were lucky to stumble onto it.. I knew we wouldn’t have stepped foot in it if the clerk hadn’t suggested it. When we stepped out of the restaurant, we were hit by a cold breeze coming off the lake. No wonder why they only had one window and a small door. I was sure when it was winter there were fewer cracks for the wind to rush through. The winter pictures I had seen in the hotel and the restaurant made me think I would love this place just as much in the winter. I might just have to come back here to ski in the alps. I knew my credit card company would like that idea. A person could dream, couldn’t they? We were reluctant to get in the car and drive somewhere so we just walked around the town and enjoyed the sights. We stepped foot into a few galleries, a couple of shops and we just had to stop in a gelateria for an afternoon snack. Okay I found my new favorite flavor: fruit of the woods. Dad got lemon. We agreed we wouldn’t get the same flavor twice if we could help it. We were in heaven. Everything we saw, we couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. We were in overload mode now because we just wanted to sit and enjoy the view. After seeing a couple of churches and one cathedral dad said he would have stayed a Catholic if he had been able to go to church here. We still have a couple of Basilicas to walk through and he was ready to go back to church. There were times like these when I wished I was raised in a church. I had nothing to connect to like Grandma Lewis and Grandma Thompson. They went to church every Sunday. Maybe when I went back home, I would go to church with Grandma Lewis. She might be surprised when I accept her offer to go. She had asked me every week since I moved in with her over five years ago. I couldn’t believe it had been that long. Maybe I should look for a place of my own. I knew I would never beat the price and I had someone who would cook for me. I loved cooking but I did enjoy a day off sometimes. It was dinner time and dad wanted to try pizza. I thought I could have done a better job though the simplicity of the pizza made it very enjoyable. I did like more herbs in my sauce. That said, the dough was what makes the pizza and the toppings did not subtract from the star of the dish, the crust. It was an early night for the two of us. Before we went to bed, we checked out each other’s room. I could barely tell he had a view because it was so dark on his side of the hotel. My room you could still see the lake. His furniture was darker than mine and they didn't match. Mine all matched, which I thought gave the room a more put together look. His bed looked just as nice as mine though his comforter was lemon yellow with swirls of blue and green. It looked to me like waves crashing into the sun. On my beautiful dresser I placed all six rings I brought with me and took off my necklace. I had to stretch my fingers out after taking them off. My hands were not used to wearing all those rings. It was kind of cool to be able to wear them. I didn’t care if one of them was a wedding ring. I was going to switch them around each day and see if I liked one ring better on a certain finger. I stood there looking at grandma’s wedding ring. I picked it up and played with it, thinking about my life. There wasn’t much to think about. I was too busy to date much in high school. I had a group of friends I did things with on weekends. It was a mixture of guys and gals. We only had one couple, who ended up together, out of the whole group. They got married in college and had everyone over a few times a year. They have me cook for the group once a year. It was fun but I was the only one who was still single this year. I couldn’t believe I was thirty, no job, no partner and a big debt. I set down the ring. I vowed that I would be married by forty and have a child. I hoped I could have children. I hoped my mom hadn’t passed down her problem. I slid into my bed and thought how nice it was to have satin sheets. I woke up to my alarm going off on my phone. I lied there thinking, do I really want to get up to run? I threw back the cover and slid off the bed. Yes, I wanted to run because I wanted to eat anything and everything. I hoped we could top yesterday’s food or at least have food just as good. Dad was waiting for me outside. “You wanted to have lots of food, too?” I laughed, “You are so right. My bed was so comfortable. Was yours?” “Oh, yes, I am going to have to look at the mattress because your mom and I could use a new one and I think it will be that bed. By the way, I don’t think the hotel people like my running gear. You should have seen the look I got.” “Oh, I meant to say something to you yesterday when you were coming out of the elevator. I saw the owner look at you and shake her head. I am not sure if it is that we are runners or that we wear skimpy clothes. I didn’t see any runners yesterday but they have such nice pathways around here.” I looked around, “It looks like we will be running in Seattle today.” This was very disappointing. I thought Italy would be sunnier than Seattle. There would be no sightseeing while running today, even though running through the streets still gives me chills that I was actually running in ITALY! After the run we thought it would be best if we showered and dressed before we went down to breakfast. By the time I got to breakfast dad was already on his second cup of cappuccino. He was sitting there with a plate filled with half eaten pastries and fruit. When I sat down, he was all smiles. “Please don’t tell your mom how I have eaten while we are here, please.” He was actually begging me. “Dad I won’t as long as you continue to run with me and when you get back you don’t cheat for a month.” “Okay, you drive a hard bargain,” frowning. “I mean no fatty foods or alcohol. You have to eat more spinach, raspberries and all the antioxidant foods I have taped to your refrigerator.” “If I eat some of that food while here, can I have a glass of red wine on Fridays?” He smiled that smile I couldn’t resist. “Okay, though I don’t want you counting gelato as one of those foods unless it is low in sugar and fat. I think the fruit of the woods sorbet I had yesterday would count.” I got the biggest smile from him. “I can handle that.” “You know if you keep eating like this you are going to get sick.” “Oh, but it is so wonderful going down.” I leaned in, “Dad! Seriously, what should I waste my calories on?” “That is easy…everything! These croissants are just as good as yours.” My dad knew the right things to say. I remember going through croissant week, month, year in school. It started out just wanting to learn how to make puff pastries then I added on more pastries until I had a minor in pastries. Working in the Greek restaurants helped when it came to learning how to make baklava. I learned how to stretch that dough or the owner’s mother would smack my hand with a wooden spoon. When I told my grandparents about this, Grandpa Lewis told me that the nuns at his school used to hit him with a ruler. After gorging ourselves with pastries, yogurt, fruits and topping them off with cappuccinos we decided to drive up into the mountains hoping to get out of the fog. I have to admit I was driving too slow for the locals. I had high beams flashed at me too many times to count. I saw a sign for a parking lot and took it. I told dad I have had enough of driving in the fog and that if he wanted to take over, I would be more than happy to hand over the keys. He wanted nothing to do with driving in this soup. Dad had read you always wanted to go to the center of the town. He said there were two reasons for this, the first reason is most of the action was in the center. The other was the tourist information was usually located there so you knew what to see in the town. We saw signs for the center and started walking. We could feel we were walking up a steep hill that had those cobble stones but that was all we could see. We were walking up a road that we thought was just a walkway when all of a sudden, a motorcycle came roaring around the corner. Dad and I jumped to the opposite side of the road and put our backs up against the walls. I hated to admit it but I screamed. As soon as the motorcycle passed us dad came running over to me and locked arms. “I could hardly see you on the other side of the road. Let’s keep together until we get in the middle of town.” I was comfortable with that. The higher we went the better we could see. There was more foot traffic and cars as we got closer to the center. We got to this bridge that went over rushing water – not that you could see the water, you just heard it. I could see this as an eerie scene in a murder mystery movie from long ago. I realized I had been watching too many movies with Grandma Lewis at this point. I expected to see a bunch of people in trench coats and Fedora hats whispering to each other. The sound of the rushing water echoed through the mountain passes and added to my overactive imagination. When we got to the top, we were still in fog, but you could see for probably a mile into the mountains. Looking out over the river that we couldn’t see, the fog was so dense along its path through the mountains. It looked like a river of floating white clouds. It was a very cool sight. I tried taking pictures of it, but they didn’t come out as cool as it looked. We milled around town looking in the shops for a gift for mom and grandma. We stopped in a jewelry shop and bought mom, grandma and my two aunts silver earrings. Apparently, Italy has a lot of silver. The earrings were so beautiful and they weren’t that expensive. I contemplated buying myself a pair. I kept coming back to these blue sapphire studs. They were very simple and I could wear them to work. I told myself I didn’t need to spend any money on me. I could have spent longer in this store. There were so many things to look at and they were all gorgeous. Dad on the other hand got tired of exploring after he found what he was looking for. “Honey, it’s after one. Don’t you think it’s time to go have lunch? All this shopping has made me hungry.” “Let’s go to that little bistro we saw by the river. We can sit outside and look up at the mountains.” “Sounds like a plan.” We were happy to sit outside even though you were sitting on top of each other. Seriously, the waitress had to turn sideways to get through the tables to wait on people. The tables were so small, really only two people could fit at them. I could see that this place would be more suitable for having drinks and looking at the mountains with a few friends. We were seated next to two handsome men in the corner of the patio area. It was hard not to stare at them when we were being seated. If we were back in Seattle, I would have enjoyed being seated this close to a couple of really good-looking men. I would have rather it not be with my dad seated across from me but rather one of my girlfriends. Though with my luck they would be gay and on a romantic date. We would have a great time chatting then go our separate ways. Since we were in Italy, I knew we would be going our separate ways after lunch. Dad was driving me nuts with his head bobbing towards the guys trying to get me to notice them. First of all, like I didn’t notice them. I could reach out and touch one of them without stretching and probably touch the other guy’s knee. Second, I could barely handle my dad being my wingman. Third, we were in Italy. What were the chances we would see them again? Finally, I got my dad to stop trying to get me to notice them by acknowledging them. “This is a beautiful restaurant. Have you eaten here before? We could use some help on what to order here.” The one man that I was facing had a sweet smile and responded as sweetly, “No, this is our first time. The fog was too heavy to continue on so we stopped here hoping by the time we finished I wouldn’t mind driving in the fog that was left.” This appeased my dad and he was happy to just look at the menu for the time being. I reached out to touch my dad’s hand to get his attention. “Are you in any hurry to get out of this town?” “No, why?” He looked at me with so much concern. I loved the way my dad could be so concerned about me with just a few words said. “Oh, I just wanted to have risotto. It takes time to make a proper risotto. You can’t make it ahead of time or it is mush and gloopy. “That sounds good but I see they have grilled pork chops and that is what I am having.” “Let’s get the house white if that is okay with you.” “Hey, having any wine is okay with me. Such a treat to have wine with lunch.” I heard the guy next to me make a grunting noise. I wanted to say something but I left it alone. I was not happy that he was finding humor in a simple statement my dad made. The waitress took our order and theirs at the same time. The man facing me ordered the risotto and smiled at me. They each ordered a glass of wine while dad and I ordered a half a liter of the house white. The waitress brought us our wine and a plate of bread. I was a little surprised that nothing came with the bread. The disappointment started to seep into my thoughts when I tasted the bread. It was definitely not made in house or even today’s bread. Dad and I agreed that it was not worth the calories after our first bite. While we were waiting for our food dad slipped a box over to me. “What’s this?” “Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at these,” He pushed the box closer to me. I picked up the box and hoped they were the ones I truly wanted. Yes, they were the blue sapphire earrings. I jumped out of my chair and gave my dad a hug and a kiss. “You are too good to me.” I heard a noise coming from the guy sitting next to me. They had been talking about this renovation they were doing but when I hugged dad the conversation stopped and he tsked. I wanted to ask him what his problem was but reframed myself again. Sitting this close it was hard not to have a conversation with the people sitting right next to you. I had waited tables where people were at the same table and they were farther apart than the four of us. We were planning our next destination when the food arrived. I could tell when she set down my dish, I was not going to be happy. First, our food should have taken longer to make and second it looked undercooked. I could tell the color of the rice was not right. I was glad it was a mushroom risotto so I knew the mushrooms would be cooked enough. “Honey, what is wrong?” “This doesn’t look cooked enough.” “Try it, it might be deceiving you.” I took a bite and I felt the chalkiness in my molars as I chewed. “This is awful.” I looked over to the guy who ordered risotto but he got osso buco. His looked like overcooked or yesterday’s risotto. I wasn’t going to say anything to him though it wasn’t long and he was saying something to me. “How is your risotto?” “I am afraid it isn’t very good. I am fighting the urge to send it back. How is yours?” “Well, it isn’t the best I have ever had. Well, actually it tastes blah. I don’t know if I am being too picky.” His friend piped up, “He is the pickiest person when it comes to food.” My dad had to add his two cents worth in on this conversation, “Well, my daughter is a chef and she knows food. So, I trust her opinion.” The guy next to me said, “She’s your daughter? I thought she was your wife.” Now, I knew why all the noise was coming out of him. He was judging us. What a jerk! The guy I was facing started the introductions, “Hi, I am Phillip and this is my friend Kyle. Are you two traveling around Italy or camped out around here?” “Nice to meet you. This is my daughter Tanzi and I am Edward. We are up here for a week traveling around Lake Como then we are heading south to Bologna. After my readings I thought, I might want to pop over to Florence too. My daughter gave me this present after my five-year cancer free checkup.” “Okay dad, enough. I am sure these gentlemen don’t want our history as well.”

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?”

Tessa is an over ambitious young woman.  She turns over her father's farm to an organic farm, becomes a chef, competes in a competition of young chefs, opens a restaurant, raises pekin ducks and emus.  She has one great fling and a drunken night.  Tessa sees love all around her but thinks she will never find that one true love. Written by Kimberly Caristi Tessa is an over ambitious young woman. She turns over her father's farm to an organic farm, becomes a chef, competes in a competition of young chefs, opens a farm to table restaurant, raises pekin ducks and emus. She has one great fling and one drunken night in Italy which is life altering. Tessa sees love all around her but thinks she will never find that one true love. This Magic Moment My excitement was so hard to contain. I was finally going home with my school art project that I worked so hard on. I couldn’t wait to show my mom and dad what I had been working on. As a second grader I was one of the last kids to get on the bus. There were only a couple of kids in first grade and afternoon kindergarten who were behind me. I was very proud of my project, and I bounced my way up the stairs to show Mr. Vanleer, our bus driver, my house. I had picked the nicest looking popsicle sticks to make my farmhouse. I colored them with the salmon marker making sure that I covered the whole stick in a pretty pink color. Of course, my house might have needed to be painted again but that didn’t matter. I was going to give it to my dad, showing him how much I loved our house and him. I was beaming from ear to ear after Mr. Vanleer said it was the nicest house he had ever seen. I had only gotten past a few rows when some mean boy thought it would be funny to trip me, which sent the house flying and to my utter dismay crashing into three pieces. My heart was broken. I was trying desperately not to cry because I had been taught that big girls don’t cry, nonetheless, a few tears did escape. I was saved by our neighbor Chase, who helped me pick up the pieces and had me sit with him. Chase was in seventh grade. He was the oldest of five brothers, all who rode the bus with my sister and me. Frank was in fifth grade, the twins Louis and Gab were in third grade with my sister Tina, and Andy was in first grade. Chase was so helpful; he used his chewing gum to glue back the pieces together. He talked to me about my house and asked me what my favorite subject was in school. We talked the whole way home. He carried my art up to the front of the bus when it was my turn to get off. His was the next stop after you crossed over the creek. When the weather was bad the bus didn’t cross the creek because it would never make it up that hill it was so steep. They either had to walk the rest of the way home or if they were lucky their mom would pick them up. I would never want to walk across that creek in the wintertime when the water was as cold as ice. Once I fell in the creek where it crossed our property and I was swiftly picked up by my dad and he ran with me in his arms all the way to our house. I was wrapped up in blankets and heating pads for a couple of days and got all the hot chocolate that I wanted. I walked our long driveway home with Tina talking all about Jordan, her new love. Tina was only nine but that was all she talked about was love. I have heard my mom and dad talk about her obsession with love. Apparently, it scared both of them. I was too young to understand it but I thought I would have been scared too if I were her mom. While she yammered on about him and how the other girls were jealous of her, I thought about how kind Chase was and thought he was the nicest boy I knew. Maybe I loved him. The Very Thought of You As the years went on, I watched Chase become the king of the bus. His word was law and everything he said went unprotested. He picked the radio station, and we all had to be happy with his choice of music…no one protested. If someone sat in his seat all he had to do was stand there and look at them. He never lifted a fist as far as I saw, unlike his brothers who were always fighting. Even the older kids who still rode the bus deferred to Chase with his undeniable presence. One day when I was in seventh grade I was late getting on the bus. There was only one seat that had only one person in it and that was Chase’s. I saw there were kids with three to a seat. No one ever asked Chase if they could sit with him. He was a senior and there were unwritten bus rules never ask to sit with a senior. The route our bus took in the afternoon was pick up the kids from the high school first then it went to the middle school. We drove a half hour to the elementary school which was another half hour to our house. Half of the kids got off our bus and got on their buses to go in all directions. If you were flying overhead when all the buses left the school, you would have thought it looked like a bunch of yellow ants leaving the anthill. With my arms full of books and a cake pan, I very tentatively asked Chase if I could sit with him. He picked up his book bag without saying a word. I was so nervous I could feel the sweat trickling down my back on that cold winter day. I didn’t want to bother him, so I sat staring straight ahead. Usually, I was very talkative with everyone, but it was Chase, he was the king. I saw that he was eyeing me out of the corner of my eye. Finally, I took a deep breath, “Do you want to say something?” I should have asked meekly but there was not a meek bone in my body. “I am just wondering if there is something in the cake pan you have sitting on your lap,” instead of being gruff he smiled at me. “Yes, I had to do a speech about France so I made a couple Buche de Noel to share with the class.” “A what?” “It is a cake made to celebrate the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. It’s from the Celts.” I was very chipper of course I was it had to do with France. Anyway, I was proud of myself for knowing all this information about a simple cake. Since he hadn’t stopped smiling at me that made me nervous. A smile shouldn’t make you nervous, it just was the way he was smiling. I continued talking, which was my forte other than baking. I started baking with my mom when I was five since she started working outside of the house. I have gradually started to bake more and sometimes made dinner. I was getting better because we were eating more of it than our dog, Rusty, though when I started Rusty wouldn’t even eat it. “Anyway, a Buche de Noel is like a Swiss roll. Do you know what a Swiss roll is?” “How old are you?” he asked, almost laughing at me. “Twelve? Why?” I said it like I had done something wrong. “You sound like you are way older. Do you have any left?” I was a little worried because if everyone asked, I wouldn’t have any left for my dad and I promised him a piece of cake. I guess I could just make a new one. “Yes.” I said timidly. “Can I taste this Buche de Noel?” I laughed at him butchering the pronunciation. I was thankful he laughed, “You have a great laugh,” he said leaning over to my ear in a low tone. I turned red. In a similar low tone I said, “Yes, but please don’t let anyone see because I don’t have enough for everyone, and I want to save a piece for my dad.” In a hushed tone he said, “Okay.” I snapped off the lid on the side closest to him and lifted it just enough that he could get his hand in and out without losing the slice of cake in his fist. He carefully took a bite with his head against the seat in front of him trying to hide that he had something. I watched patiently to see what he thought. I didn’t have to wait very long, and he turned his head and with his eyes open wide, “You made this?” I nodded my head. “This is very good.” Frank turned around, “What’s good? Do you have food?” Chase licked his lips very fast and lifted his head to confront Frank, “Clean out your ears! I said, ``It is good that she is going to move when the little kids get on the bus.” He gave me a look and winked with the eye that Frank couldn’t see. We talked the rest of the way to the elementary school about all the things I could bake. When I told him I could make a very good cherry pie he let me know that cherry pie was his favorite. I told him I would make him one someday. While walking up our drive, Tina was talking about her new dress for the eighth-grade winter dance this weekend. Mary Jane would be so upset when she saw Tina with heels and a dress that mom actually bought for her. I barely listened because I was thinking of Chase and how he thought I was the best baker he ever met. I knew that was saying a lot because I had his mom’s baked goods at the church picnic. He told me I should become a baker. I had been thinking I would like to become a chef someday. I watched the reruns of Julia Child’s show all the time and it didn’t look that hard. Cherish or Cherry Pie In the spring when I got on the bus all the high school boys were needling Chase, saying they knew he was a jock, but they didn’t know he had brains, too. Everyone knew he was a jock. My dad said Chase’s arm was like a rocket launcher. The football flew out of his arm and landed on the money, which I assumed meant the player caught the ball. Chase also played baseball. He was not the pitcher because his dad wanted him to play professional football instead. I didn’t know you could choose. Chase’s dad and my dad were good friends. Chase was being heckled on the bus which surprised me, no one picked him. I finally heard what they were teasing him about. Come to find out he was named Valedictorian of his class, so he was not only a jock but very smart. When I got off the bus, I had the nerve to speak to him. “Congratulations Chase,” was all I could muster. He gave me his captivating smile and thanked me. At dinner time, I told my mom and dad about Chase being the Valedictorian. My mom said he was the whole package. I asked what that meant and she said he was good looking, smart and an athlete. I guess he was just that. I suggested that I make him a celebratory cherry pie. My mom said that would be a nice gesture. Saturday morning, I got all the supplies together that I needed and made Chase a cherry pie. Mom drove me over to deliver it. I wanted to drop it off and run but mom wanted to visit with Mrs. Richards. I had to sit there while the two of them had a cup of coffee. I was thrilled to find out that all the boys were out working on the farm. I wanted to be nice nevertheless I knew I would be teased if the younger boys saw I baked a pie for Chase. When my mom told Mrs. Richards that we wanted to congratulate Chase with a pie. I was happy that it didn’t come across as me making it for Chase but the Deigert family congratulating Chase. Monday when the Richards boys got on the bus, they told Tina to thank my mom for the best pie ever. It was better than their own mom’s pies. I smiled to myself, but Tina blurted out, “Oh, my mom didn’t make the pie, Tessa did.” She was proud of me. Well, that sent the boys into an uproar. They started to tease me that I liked Chase. They were sitting in the seat behind me tormenting me except Chase who went back to his seat. After a few minutes of taking a bunch of jabs I stood up and I turned around putting my hands on my hips. I leaned forward enough to look like I was going to spit fire and said, “I thought I liked all of you but not anymore. If any of you ever do anything that deserves a pie you won’t be getting it from me!” I was not quite yelling though my voice was higher than usual. I saw Chase sitting in the back and he gave me a thumbs up. I turned back to the front and said in even a louder voice, “Though I doubt any of you could even spell Valedictorian let alone be one.” I sat down with a thud. Well, that shut them up. When Chase got off the bus he stopped at my seat and thanked me for the pie. I was thankful that his brothers were off the bus by the time he got to my seat. He told me I did a good job of handling his brothers. I thought I had to because he was no help. To me this great guy that everyone looked up to was knocked off his high perch as far as I was concerned. The issue was I had put him there. I decided he was just another guy with a big ego. A couple of days later I received a card thanking me for the delicious pie. I couldn’t believe he sent me a thank you card. That was very nice of him. I put it in my treasure box with my arrowheads and my rabbit's foot. Maybe Chase wasn’t that bad . Good Riddance Mrs. Richards called me one day and asked me if I would make a cake for Chase’s graduation party and some cookies. It felt weird talking to an adult about what flavors she wanted in a cake and what kind of cookies. I asked her how she knew I made cakes and cookies. She told me that my mom and dad have been bragging about me for years and all this time Mrs. Richards thought it was really my mom’s baking not mine. “When the boys came home and told me it was you who made the pie, I knew your parents had to be telling the truth.” I stood a little taller that day. I made a black forest cake, chocolate cherry cookies, peanut butter cookies and lemon sugar cookies. The black forest cake was the biggest cake I had ever made. Since I knew Chase liked cherries, I thought he would like that cake the best. Mrs. Richards ordered a chocolate cake: well that just wouldn’t do. It had to be special. We got to go to his graduation party. We drove up their long driveway, up on top of the hill where this grand house sat surrounded by trees. Everyone around here had gravel driveways though the Richards was made from white rocks which really looked so nice against the green grass. Our house was a simple farmhouse with gables and a big picture window in front with a really beaten-up screen door and a wooden screened-in porch to the side of the house. The Richards house was a huge two-story white house with pillars in the front. They had a circular driveway that let you off at their front door. The parking area next to their garage looked out onto a lake. If you wanted to park in their garage, you would drive behind the house. I was in awe of that house though I felt uncomfortable in it when I had my work clothes on but today, I had on a party dress as my mother called it. We arrived before the guests to help set up some chairs and, of course, put my cake and cookies on the table. I was nervous that something might be wrong with the cake. My dad taste tested all the cookies, so I knew they were good…well, he approved. He loved the new cookie that I made up. It was a chocolate cookie base with a maraschino cherry topped with a chocolate glaze. He said I will have to start making those cookies all the time. Mrs. Richards asked me to serve the cake, so I had to stand by the cake table the whole party, which was a drag unless someone took a bite of the cake in front of me and told me how good it was. I didn’t tell anyone that I made it. I just smiled and said I was glad they liked it. Chase came by with some of his friends and they took some cake plus enough cookies that their plates were like pyramids. He smiled at me but didn’t say anything…he was knocked down another peg. After a couple of hours of standing on my feet I begged my mom to let me walk home. It was only a couple of miles, and it was a beautiful evening. I only had to beg a little bit before she told me I had to be careful crossing the creek not to get my shoes wet or dirty. Tina wanted to stay and make gaga faces at all the boys. When Andy heard me say goodbye to Tina, he asked me if he could tag along because he was bored. Andy was the sweetest of all the Richards boys. I didn’t think the middle three were nice at all. They were kind of rough and mean if you asked me. We saw Chase and some of his friends out front and the hooting and hollering that was done while Andy and I walked down the road pissed me off. I tried not to have it bother me, nevertheless it did. I would never understand boys and teasing. I took off my socks and shoes to cross the creek. Andy jumped across. I thought about attempting that but figured if I slipped and fell, I would have Andy laughing at me and I couldn’t stand that at the moment. I had a lot of pent-up frustrations, more like anger. We started cutting through the fields to make the walk shorter. We made plans that when we got to my house, I would change my clothes, and we would play on my tire swing. Well, that didn’t happen. While I was stepping through some tall grass a copperhead struck my ankle. I let out a blood curdling scream that probably could have been heard at the Richards if someone had been listening. I told Andy to go back and tell my parents what happened, and I would meet them at the crossroad. We both knew I had to go to the doctor. I had never seen Andy run so fast. It wasn’t long before I saw our car come speeding down the gravel road with dust flying everywhere. I was sitting in the middle of the road because I wanted to make sure that I could see a snake coming at me. Nobody was happy with me, not even me. I knew I was to walk with a stick in the grass. It took me over a week to feel better. Chase sent me a get-well card along with a thank you for the best cake ever. He said it was better than the Noel cake. I was sure he just remembered the Noel part and not the Buche. He said he was going away to college and if I wanted to send him cookies, he wouldn’t mind, especially the chocolate ones with cherries. He added the lemon cookies were a close second. The thank you helped but it still bothered me the way he treated me or the way he let other people treat me. He had another thing coming if he thought I would make him cookies and send them to him at college. Friends in Low Places The next time I saw Chase was at Frank’s wedding. Tina and I were pretty sure Frank and Candace got caught doing it in her bedroom and her dad said they had to get married, or he was going to send Frank to jail because she was seventeen. Frank looked so unhappy during the ceremony and got drunk at the reception at the Richards home. Chase got drunk too. He was home from college. I was in ninth grade and Tina was in tenth. She was in heaven because there were two boys to every one girl. She never stopped dancing the whole night. Tina got all the best genes when it came to the body. She had all the curves in the right places. I was always told by the sweetest of my aunts that if I would lose ten to twenty pounds that all the boys would flock to me instead of Tina. I didn’t want a guy that bad. If they didn’t like me the way I was then they could just move on, that was my mantra. My mom would say it was my baby fat that made me adorable. Again, I was hired by the Richards to make petit fours, mini lemon meringue pies, and mini cheesecakes. My mom said it would be our gift to them. I thought that cheated Frank out of a gift, but I really didn’t see the marriage lasting after watching them at the wedding. I kept all the recipes simple for me because it was such a big order. I always hoped that one of these kinds of events would get me more jobs but when they found out it was a fourteen-year-old girl that made the desserts, they lost interest. I was standing out of the way just watching the dancing. Chase came up behind me and whispered in my ear, “The desserts are very good. Have you picked out the culinary school you will be going to?” I turned around to the smell of booze. I could hardly stand being so close to him. I stepped back and replied, “I am not sure where I am going to school.” Chased stepped forward and leaned in very close to my face. I was a little scared, but I was not going to show it. He started to sway a little and asked, “Do you want to dance with me?” I did not like Chase the older I got. “No, I don’t dance.” Which was a little bit of a lie. I loved to dance but I only danced on my own or with my girlfriends. “Come on, I’ll show you.” He tried to pull me by the hand onto the dance floor. He bumped into some guy I didn’t know, the guy turned around and pushed Chase. Chase then fell into someone else and then all hell broke loose. A big fight ensued. My dad was just walking in from outside and saw what was happening. He grabbed my sister and me then shoved us at our mom. He ran back and started grabbing guys and tossing them to the side. My dad was a big guy and nobody tangled with him. Mr. Richard then took a shovel from the fireplace and started hitting guys over the head that wouldn’t stop fighting. It was kind of comical, but I didn’t dare laugh, though on the way home everyone in our car was laughing about it. A couple of days later I got a card from Chase saying he was sorry for his behavior. He just couldn’t stand how Frank was making the biggest mistake of his life and used alcohol to deaden the pain of the day. I didn’t know why he was writing an apology to me. He should be writing one to his parents. Teenage Dream In my sophomore year my life changed for what I thought was the best thing ever. In Biology class I realized that we were ruining our earth with all these pesticides. I begged my dad to let me have a part of our land between where I got the snake bite and the river to try my hand at organic farming. The field where Andy and I walked across was already organic. It was our hay field so I knew I would not have to worry about the pesticides floating over my organic ground. It wasn’t hard to convince him. He was thrilled I took an interest in farming. He told me that I would have to do everything myself. We had a discussion of what it would take to become an organic farmer. My mom took part in our conversation. Years later she told me the reason why she wanted to be a part of the discussion was she didn’t want my dad to make it out harder than it would be. She made sure I really understood what would be required of me. I knew it was going to take years to be certified as organic, but I could let people know I was not using pesticides or chemical fertilizer on my plants. I have worked on our farm since I was a little girl and loved it. I thought that was why my dad agreed to let me take on all the responsibility of working our land. My mom really got behind it and helped me do research on how to proceed. She even found a farmer’s market in St. Louis where we could take our produce. I made a sign that said we were in transition to becoming an organic farm and this year’s crop was not treated with chemicals. We did well enough that mom wanted to do it again next summer. She could tell I was already into it one hundred percent. I was in heaven as some people say. I loved planting and taking care of the plants. I took pictures of some of my fruit, like they were my babies. That was when my mom realized that this was my true calling. We met some lovely people there and got to try some great barbeque at a restaurant nearby. Mom and I saw what people were paying for organic berries so we decided we would plant some black raspberries, more blackberries and red raspberries. Organic farming was not for the faint of heart. I thought I was working harder than I was before. I joined the FFA, Future Farmers of America. In the spring our advisor coaxed me into making a presentation at the state fair. I felt so honored to be asked. Since I was going anyway, I thought I would enter a few baking contests. I entered my best blackberry cobbler, sour cherry pie and ‘The Best Chocolate Chip Cookie’ contest in which I added almond extract, dried sour cherries and chopped candied almonds to offset the sour cherries. I was pleased to win first place for my sour cherry pie and took third with my cookie recipe. I didn’t pack the house for my presentation, though the people that were there told me I did a good job. Even a couple of people asked me if I could point them in the right direction to become organic certified. That lifted my spirits because I was responsible for changing people’s minds. For a minute I thought I could do it for a living, trying to change people's minds about using pesticides. I got asked out more in my junior year of high school than any year. I got more form to my body the summer between sophomore and junior year. Tina gave me her old clothes to wear instead of wearing jeans and a jean shirt. I did something with my unruly hair, too. I also started wearing makeup. Tina was always on me to make myself look better. Her mantra was if you didn’t look good you didn’t feel good. Sometimes on the end of that she would add about yourself. I did feel better when I looked nice. The issue I had was working on the farm. It was hard to look good all the time. The one important thing I learned while I was in the FFA was that kids on dairy farms had it rough. I felt for those kids. My friend, Alison, had to get up so early to milk before school. I was glad we didn’t get into dairy farming because those people don’t have a life. You couldn’t take a day off if you just didn’t feel well. Those cows want to be milked morning and night. My vegetables didn’t require me to get up early. I had been known to pick my vegetables at night to make dinner. I found dating not worth all the work. My understanding of the purpose of dating was to have fun with someone, right? Well, that was what I thought. I was spending my time with a guy, and he would be telling me about someone we knew and how he was so much better than him, bragging how he was way better at whatever sport they were playing, or my date was trying to go all the way on our first date. None of that interested me and they were not interested in getting to know me. She’s in Love with a Boy My parents told Tina she had to go to a year of community college before they would allow her to marry her high school sweetheart Greg. My parents said Greg had to go to some sort of college, too. Tina visited the community college and after talking to a couple of teachers decided that she wanted to go away to college. My parents were thrilled that she fell in love with the idea of going away to school instead. She applied to several colleges in Missouri and got a scholarship that helped pave the way. That surprised all of us because it looked like she wanted to go to all four years to earn a degree. That was news to Greg and he didn’t like that idea at all. In fact, he was very upset with Tina. He told Tina if she went away to college he might not be here when she got back. As it turned out, Tina was fine with that because when the fall break came around, she brought home Scott. Scott was from St. Louis and had never been on a farm. It was love at first sight…Scott and the farm. It took a little more time for Tina and Scott to fall in love. He was so excited by everything. My parents were astounded by Scott, he seemed more excited about where Tina lived than he was with her. At the dinner table the conversation centered on what mom and I were doing. Scott was a biology major, and organic farming really interested him. Tina hung onto every word he said. The funny thing was she started to have an interest in what we were doing, too. It was like a light had gone on in her head about other things in life besides men and how she looked. When Tina and Scott left to go back to school all of us decided that this guy was a keeper. We didn’t know if Scott was the reason for Tina’s change or going to college. Either way mom and dad were happy. Dating my senior year really tapered off to just going out with a group of people and having a fun time. Really, I hung out with FFA people because we were all interested in farming. I even persuaded a few to try their hand at organic farming. Not everyone had a great support system like I did. I felt so blessed to have my family take an interest in what I did. So far dad hasn’t gone totally organic, but I haven’t given up hope that he would someday. My Girl Gab Richards got a girl pregnant, and the Richards had a quick wedding. Mrs. Richards hired me to make the wedding cake and some appetizers for the little reception they were having. It was my first wedding cake, and I was excited. It was going to be a simple wedding cake flavored with vanilla and almond extract with a butter batter. She wanted a raspberry filling. The frosting was a vanilla Italian buttercream with little pearls around the edges. The bride’s family was roasting a pig, so she wanted my appetizers to be a simple pick up with your fingers, kind of thing. I made stuffed mushrooms, mini cream puffs filled with chicken salad and mini quiche for the vegetarians. She was going to put out sliced cheese, salami, and assorted vegetables with a dip. The disdain in Mrs. Richards’ voice when she told me the bride’s family was bringing baked beans, potato salad, apple sauce and corn bread told me not to say “that sounds good” when she finished. I arrived early in the morning to bring the cake. I was surprised how they have added onto the house. I guess the only son to leave was Chase. Frank and his wife and their little brat were living over where the garage used to be. They made the garage into a large family room. They added a huge garage at the backside of the house. Six large vehicles could fit into that garage, it was so big. I was to set up the cake table in the new family room. I had everything looking just right when I turned around and saw Chase in his boxer shorts and a T-shirt. “What happened to my little girl?” The former me would have turned red by that comment but hanging around a bunch of guys in FFA had taught me to blow off comments besides, I thought that statement was a little weird. I gave my best nonchalant smile, “Hi Chase. I see you have dressed for breakfast.” That made him self-conscious, which pleased me. “Sorry I didn’t know we were having company.” I said a little flippant, “I am not company. I am the hired help.” Chase put on a serious smile, “So where are you going to culinary school?” “I am not going to culinary school. I am going to Mizzou for an agriculture degree.” I was proud of my decision. “Tell me you are not going to hang around here?” He said, with a look of exasperation. “I love it here. I have started an organic farm on part of my dad’s property. Every year I add more land.” Again, I was proud to be a successful organic farmer. I had to stand up to what I believed in. “My parents told me about you. They think you are nuts.” Chase was such a smart aleck. “Well, I am not the Valedictorian that you were, but I did graduate last week fifth in my class and got a full ride to Mizzou. So, if I am nuts then so be it.” I smiled and walked past him. “Tell your mom I will be back an hour before the reception please.” Chase yelled after me, “You still owe me a dance.” I left feeling good and if Chase thought I would dance with him he was going to have a rude awakening. I returned at the said hour dressed in a classic black dress and a pair of high heels. After an hour of standing, I wished I had worn flats. Now Chase was in a very nice dark blue suit and starched white shirt. He came up behind me and whispered, “You are making a mistake not going to culinary school.” I answered flatly, “Thanks but I think I know what is right for me.” I turned to face him. This time he wasn’t drunk. “So, no drinking to Gab and him making the biggest mistake of his life?” I saw him cringe…good. “No, I have given up on my brothers. Well, maybe not Andy, he still has some sweetness in him. This time I think Gab is happy – just look at him. He is all smiles. Now, take a look at Frank, he is the poster child for bitterness.” My eyes moved from Gab with his arm around Amelia to Frank and saw the harshness in his eyes. It looked like Frank was looking at Gab and hating him for being happy. Well, that was what it looked like from here. Gab and Amelia were a good-looking couple and I bet they would have beautiful children together. Frank’s wife Candice was nowhere to be seen. I bet she was upstairs with their little one, Frank Jr. He was a little brat if there ever was one. Mom said when she came over here Frankie ruled the roost and was a little terror. Chase broke my train of thought, “How about that dance you owe me?” He smiled at me, then held out his hand for mine. “Well, the funny thing is there is no one dancing. Besides, I told you I don’t dance.” He took a hold of my hand and said, “Please come with me.” I didn’t know why but I didn’t resist. I knew why because he said it in a sexy voice. We walked outside where most of the bride’s family were gathered around the pig though some people were dancing to the music they were playing. “This is where the fun and action is happening.” He swung me around and pulled me towards him. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Just a second,” the pout on his face was adorable. “I have to take these shoes off; they are killing me.” Oh, we had fun dancing with everyone outside. That was more to my liking. Someone called out, let's do a square dance and he started calling out moves. I didn’t think I laughed that much in a long time. Dancing barefoot in the Richards yard was a treat to the feet. I didn’t know how much fertilizer they used to get grass to feel like carpet. I hoped they didn’t eat the fish they pulled out of their lake. It was getting late, and people were going inside to eat dinner. I went to sit down (more like I flopped down) on the little hill at the edge of the woods. Chase followed with his suit jacket in hand. I started the conversation, “Where are you living these days?” “New York,” he said a little out of breath. “Wow, that is pretty far from this farm. You ran as fast as you could to get away from this place.” “I had to get away from this life to see what was out there. Aren’t you a little curious to see the world?” “Maybe to go on vacation but really the beauty of this area can’t be beat.” He made a huffing noise of disapproval. “Hey, I watch the travel channel.” “That is literally watching the world go by through a window,” he chuckled. “Well, in a couple of weeks I will be flying to Paris. Do you know about this city? It happens to be in France.” I said a little bit snooty. “Ooh la la,” he shook his hand to exaggerate how little he was impressed. “Have you been to Paris?” It made me curious a guy who wanted to see the world and I bet he had only seen New York. “No, but I could if I wanted to.” Chase sounded like a little kid. I stood up, “Then don’t mock me until you have.” I walked off with Chase calling after me. It was time to cut the cake and serve it. As soon as I was finished, I collected my trays and put them in my truck and didn’t look back. I didn’t think I would be doing any more business with the Richards. I knew Chase wouldn’t be getting married and Louis was too smart to get caught by someone wanting to get married. I was betting Andy would do it right where the bride’s family took care of the reception. In a couple of days, I got a postcard from New York saying, ‘New York has everything Paris has and more. Come visit and I will show you around, Chase.’ Mon Amour, Mon Ami (My Love, My Friend) I was so excited to go to Paris with my French class. It was my graduation present. My mom had promised to look after the garden and she would take the lettuces, the strawberries and the herbs that were ready to the farmer’s market the weekends that I was gone. I found myself in total awe of everything I saw and ate. I really needed to work on my pastry skills after eating my first croissant. We spent the whole day in the Louvre Museum. I lost count of all the paintings I had seen on my trip. I couldn’t believe I saw all those famous paintings in person. My favorite part of the day was eating. Who wouldn’t want to eat French food? I could have spent the whole day eating. I got the idea of raising goats while in France and started to do research in the hotel then I sent the information to my mom. The next day my mom sent me an email asking why was I spending all my time doing research when I should be sightseeing. The following day I sent her a picture of me at the top of the Eiffel tower. We spent a week in Paris and a week-long trip touring around the countryside. It was so beautiful. There were flowers everywhere and the smell of lavender filled the air as they were just starting to bloom. I took a selfie with the background of thousands of sunflowers at one stop. They were just starting to open up and the sun was in the right direction for them all facing my back as I took the picture. It was my favorite picture I took on the trip and put it as my screensaver on my computer. The part of the picture with me was covered up with all my icons that didn’t matter because what I really wanted to see was the sunflowers and that bright blue sky. When we went to the castles in Sant Malo and Brest they were a highlight of the trip for the guys. Knowing that the pirates had a base in Sant Malo excited them more than me getting to eat cheese and bread in France. I thought the castles were beautiful, especially the one in Sant Malo. The water was so clear and blue. What I found entertaining was that it took me to go over four thousand miles to see the Atlantic Ocean when I could have driven to see it in less than a thousand miles. Vegetables When I got home, I had a lot of work to do to keep the bugs and blight away from my plants. The weekly trips to St. Louis were a treat, literally a treat. We have one restaurant close by our farm, the Crow’s Nest was nothing to write home about. It was a greasy spoon, and the spoons were usually greasy. Mom and I made a big deal out of it finding somewhere special eat. We picked a new place for lunch which was our excitement for the week. We always brought back something special from St. Louis for dad, so he was loving my enterprise. Tina wasn’t into extravagant food as she put it. After the first couple times we stopped bringing her food because mom wasn’t happy that dad was eating what Tina didn’t want. That summer I expanded my entrepreneurship by adding bread to our stall. I had seen people pay top dollar for a good loaf of bread and I thought I could compete with the best of them when making bread. I made two kinds: a French baguette and a hearty whole wheat bread. The first time I brought a couple dozen of each, and I sold out in an hour. The truth was that the vendors around us bought most of them. They told me that I had to bring bread every week from now on. I bought a convection oven for our stall and brought enough dough to double the number of loaves and baked them in our stall. The oven was a pain to hall to our stall each week, but it was worth it. By the end of the season, people were coming up to us saying they would miss having fresh baked bread on Saturdays. Mom and I figured out that it would be too costly to bake bread and deliver it here each week during the off season, so that was out of the question. Plus, I was starting college and when I came home, I would need to attend to my garden. When you live in a farming community you hear about everyone personal business usually at the general store or the post office. We heard our neighbor Mrs. Preston had cancer. Mom suggested that I make her some chicken soup or some broth. She had heard Mrs. Preston was having trouble keeping her food down. The chemo was making her so sick. I went to work making Mrs. Preston both chicken soup and a chicken and vegetable stock. There were just as many vegetables in the stock as there were chicken bones and meat. I did a good job of straining the stock so if she just wanted something light the stock would fit the bill. I thought it tasted good, nevertheless I wasn’t sure if it would stay down. I made some cookies as well because Mr. Preston had commented on them when I made them for Frank’s wedding. I headed out very satisfied with my collection of organic soup, stocks plus nonorganic cookies. I hadn’t gone that far over on having everything organic yet. It was hard to find organic stuff at our grocery store. I thought it would be cool to get to that point though. When I was crossing over the creek and heading up the hill, I could just see the Richards’ massive home from the road. I definitely could see their green grass. It saddened me that I knew their runoff of chemicals was polluting our creek and river. Mr. Preston’s property was on the north side of the road from the Richards’ property and at the top of the hill his property was on both sides of the street. Mr. Preston did not have a huge production of corn and soybeans, but it was his farm, not a corporation. I detested that we had a couple corporations around here because they were ruining the land. The thought of what was polluting creeks and rivers would just rile me to the bone. Mr. Preston used herbicides and pesticides: all the stuff I was against, though when one of your neighbors was sick you helped them out or brought them chicken soup. It wasn’t a full forty-eight hours before Mr. Preston was at my house asking if I would mind making his wife more stock. It was the first thing she had kept food down in a month. I had seen she had lost weight at my visit and it was difficult for me to look at her when she talked. I told Mr. Preston that it was because it was all organic. I didn’t know if that was the truth, but I thought it was true or I wanted it to be true. Some of the reason could be that our vegetables tasted so much better than what you get at the grocery store. I knew our chicken tasted better than anything I had elsewhere. He sat in my kitchen and talked to me about what it took to become an organic farmer. I started to make enough soup to last a week for Mrs. Preston. She couldn’t get over how good it tasted, he said. Scott told him that it was because I made it. I assured him it was because it was organic. Scott had come for a visit and was listening to our conversation and would add a tidbit here and there. Scott was getting to know as much as me. After his first visit he started doing his own research on organic farming. He had even looked up some grants that I could apply for. I hoped and prayed that Tina and Scott would never break up. When everything was packed up, he laid two twenty-dollar bills down on the table and said he didn't know how much he should pay for the information he received. He asked if he had any questions, could he come by again? I told him the soup and the information were free and tried to hand him back his money. He wouldn’t take it and said if I didn’t take it, he wouldn’t ask us for help again. I pocketed the money. I felt bad for him because he felt that he was the one who made his wife sick. Their beautiful old farmhouse sat not twenty feet in any direction from the area where he sprayed all that poison. Their barn sat right up against the field. There was no wasted space. I bet their own home garden got some of the spray since it sat up against the field, too. The Freshman I was ready to go to Mizzou and everything was packed when Tina came into my room to talk to me about what to expect from guys in college. I didn’t think they were any different than they were in high school. She told me to always travel around campus with a couple of girls: the more the better. I thought it was funny and she told me to stop laughing she was serious. Our schools were not far from each other. A few hours were all, but I would miss seeing her. The past year I had mom and dad to keep me company, which helped. When I was missing her terribly, I would go in her room and call her…texting wouldn’t do. I didn’t know what we were going to do when she got married and moved away. I didn’t know if Scott was the one, but their relationship was the longest she had been with one guy. This past summer she would hitch a ride with us and spend the day with Scott then he would bring her home late at night. Sometimes when we woke up on Sunday, we found him sleeping on our family room couch. Mom finally told them that if he were going to spend the night that Tina should sleep with me and he could have her room. By August, he had pretty much moved in on the weekend, coming out on Friday and leaving Monday morning for work. He worked in his dad’s law office as a secretary though he called himself a clerk. His dad knew Scott didn’t want to become a lawyer, but I thought Mr. Turner was hoping if Scott hung around the office, he might want to become one. I knew Scott wanted to be a farmer. It was just that Scott didn’t know it yet. Scott talked about how he felt out here, and I knew that was the same feeling I got when I came back from St. Louis. Dad was showing Scott what it took to be a farmer, and mom and I were showing Scott what it took to be an organic farmer, which he loved. He helped me do all kinds of jobs from spraying the plants with pepper spray in hope of getting rid of the insects and maybe the bunnies would stop eating the produce. We might have one Mexican bunny because he keeps eating one head of lettuce that I keep spraying with hot sauce. Scott had helped me build tunnels for more than just the tomato and pepper plants. We have added some tunnels for my berries too. While I was in college, I went home most weekends to work on my gardens, or should I say my farm. I had a lot to do cutting out the old canes of black raspberries, raspberries and blackberries. I trimmed the fruit trees because I was training them in the espalier style. I wanted them to be flat trees like a trellis. It was an ancient way of producing more fruit and keeping the dead wood out. My dad only allotted me so much land, so I had to make the best of it. I was growing them along guard wires around the outline of the lettuce garden. The lettuce only needed five hours of light, and the trees would help to keep the lettuce cooler. Hot sun and temperature make for wilted lettuce. The only good, wilted lettuce was with bacon, vinegar and sugar. On a beautiful fall day, I stopped by Mr. Preston’s to see how his wife was doing and I brought a big pot of chicken soup. I was checking to see if he had any questions and to be honest, I wanted to check if he was getting frustrated with the process of changing over to being organic. We talked about his process of changing over his land. Mrs. Preston was doing better and was as interested in converting to an organic farm as well as Mr. Preston. She was looking so much better, and she had just finished having her chemo treatments. Now, she just had to get checked every so often. They both had a positive attitude that she was cancer free now. I prayed she was cancer free as well. I brought over a book that I had used in one of my classes for them to read. I was feeling good about what he had started to convert already. I really liked them, and they seemed to like me. I felt like our dynamic had changed. We sat and talked about my classes and what I was doing at the percent time on the farm. I knew I already had grandparents but maybe I could treat them like a great aunt and uncle. We had always seen each other at church functions, town festivals or neighbors’ parties but this experience of bringing Mrs. Preston soup and talking about what it meant to be an organic farmer had brought us to another level of connection. I was getting to know them on an adult level, and they treated me like an adult, which was so nice. I had decided to major in Agribusiness management and minor in Agricultural systems technology before I started college. At orientation, I talked to a great advisor then she sent me over to the departments to talk to a couple of professors. I wasn’t interested in doing an internship because I already had my own farm. I didn’t know what they said to all the prospective students but they both said they looked forward to having me in class. They both thought I had a good plan set up and were a little nervous that I was putting too much on my plate. I assured them that I was a serious student and wanted to get the most out of my college experience. I took a test to see if I could test out of any French classes. I was happy that I tested out of both first year’s classes. The person who gave me the exam said I was just points from testing out of the first three semesters. I might be getting ahead of myself, but I might have two minors, the second one being French. I loved everything French. Shoot my bedroom had a French theme with a picture of the Eiffel Tower hanging over my bed. I planned on decorating my dorm the same way. My mom bought me a bedspread with the Eiffel Tower, French stamps, the word “Paris” and all things French. I definitely was a Francophile. Sticking with my French theme I decided to take classes in the culinary arts and hone my skills on becoming a real chef. I had to learn how to make some of the food that I had on my trip to France. I was taking an overload and wasn’t worried about it. Cooking had become a passion. I loved baking but cooking the main dishes was so much more exciting. Our weekly honors meetings to discuss a book we were all reading was one of the highlights of my week. I wanted to do something besides studying which was the biggest percentage of my awake time. I knew I didn’t want to join the running group. That was too hard on my body. So, I took up walking with a group of walkers. Walking was fun and I could talk and meet people doing it. I met a young man who had gotten hurt his senior year in high school playing football and walking was the only activity his body could handle at this point. Jonah was a nice guy, and I thought we would have fun on a date so I finally asked him if he would want to go to a movie with me. We had a great time and started to see each other more often outside the walking group. By the end of the school year, he was able to start with the running group. Neither one of us said anything about getting together during the summer. I think we used each other for a fun time when we needed a break from our studies. Jonah was as dedicated to his studies as I was. I thought he would make a great doctor. He had a passion and a compassion that would make him an exceptional doctor. Plus, he had a sense of humor that would put his patients at ease if they got sick. The Sunday before the end of the year of my freshman finals, Mrs. Richards died of ovarian cancer. After she was diagnosed, she only lived for a couple of months. Her funeral was the day of one of my finals and I had to do a presentation, which was more or less a part of my final for the class. There was no way I could responsibly miss these finals for a woman that I only saw a few times a year. She always wanted to entertain at her house, so mom and dad went there. Mom was thrilled she didn’t have to worry about what condition our house was in. I used our screened in porch for plantings as well as our sunroom. Either way when you came into our house you smelled dirt unless I was baking, then the smells were something delicious. I wrote Chase a letter telling him I was sorry for the loss of his mom and apologized for missing the funeral and the reason why. I told him a couple of special stories about her that were triggered when I made a cherry pie or had vanilla cake. I wrote a nice note to Mr. Richards, too. I didn’t feel I had to write to all the brothers since they still lived at home. When I got home, I had a letter from Chase thanking me for thinking of him and the kind words I said about his mom. He understood why I wasn’t there, which made me feel better about missing the funeral. My first year of college I kept my scholarship, and I made the Dean’s list. I had heard of the freshman fifteen. Most freshmen came home having gained weight in the first year. I lost fifteen. My mom was so worried because I had lost so much but I assured her that I ate. I just never got used to the food and I talked too much while I sat with friends. Really they were my study partners who valued food more than studying. I was usually late for dinner so I ate what I could and left. I really didn’t feel like I had tried to lose weight, it just was a happy coincidence. At the end of her sophomore year, Tina had decided to become a teacher like mom. My mom was honored and happy that she finally decided what she wanted to do. My disappointment was she was behind in getting all the requirements fulfilled in two more years, so she stayed at school to do two summer terms. To my dismay, we only saw Scott and her occasionally until August. Then Scott almost moved in. My dad said we should just add his name to the mailbox. We teased dad on how old he was because nobody got mail anymore. The statement brought me to thoughts of Chase. He must have an old soul since he wrote letters. Power of Two Thinking Out Loud The day I arrived home after my freshman year, I was so excited I talked nonstop to my parents about what my exams were like and what I was going to start to do on the farm. Both of them begged me to eat something and I realized they just wanted me to stop talking. The both laughed when I told them what I thought and they said maybe. I slept twelve hours straight that first night. That would be the last day I wouldn’t set an alarm. I didn’t have time to relax because my garden needed to be tended to. I say garden but it was acres and acres of vegetables. My mom did as much as she could though my land needed more than one person to take care of it. It was getting so big I could use another person or two. I would hire kids around my area to help when it was crunch time. When I was in need of people to pick the fruits and vegetables before I went to the farmers market, I would hire a couple of kids from town who didn't have jobs. Our town only had a general store and a post office so usually kids had to drive to the next town which only has a few more job options, or some would ask farmers if they needed help. I had a few young kids who would ride their horses to my place when they wanted pocket money. I was happy for the cheap labor. I realized that if I wanted some of them to stick around, I was going to have to be willing to make working worth their while. My thoughts kept coming back to I needed to find someone who loved the land as much as I did. Life was so busy working I didn’t even know what end was up sometimes. I took an online class during the first summer session. I wish I would have thought to take another class during the second summer session because it would have made my life a little easier during the school year. I liked the online class because I could work at my own speed. I finished before the deadline and thought that was easy. I was sitting at the table with my laptop working on my class schedule for the rest of my college career when Scott plopped down next to me. I could tell he wanted to talk so I finished up my work and saved it. “What’s up?” I said looking at him dead on. “I don’t want to bother you, but I have been thinking about your plan with your business. Do you mind if we go into some detail about where you are heading?” “Sure, though I think we have really talked my plan to death. Scott just come out and tell me is there something wrong with my plan? You can tell me. I am a big girl and I can take it.” I leaned in to show him I was open to whatever he had to tell me. He has been nothing but helpful since the day we met. “I really think, if you want to expand what you are doing, that you need someone working for you besides your mom. Would you be interested in hiring me?” He hesitated a little, “You know that I graduate next year, and I think I have something to offer you in your business. Maybe you would be interested in a partner?” I was nineteen years old, and I had someone who wanted to be my partner because he liked what I was doing. The feeling I had when he suggested him being my partner got me all excited. I just said over and over, “YES!” My dad came in from the barn and my mom came down the hall when I was saying yes. I explained what happened very quickly and my mom was saying yes just as much as I did. Both my parents were so happy because they saw that I had the potential for making a good living being an organic farmer, but it was going to kill me before I got started. I definitely needed more than just my mom to help me. Since Tina was sleeping in as she did every Saturday morning in August, I was making breakfast for everyone else. If we waited until Tina got up, we would be eating lunch. We finished eating and were sitting around the table talking about my classes for next year and Scott was all antsy. Finally, he spoke up. “Mr. Deigert, I would like your permission to marry your daughter.” Mom and dad looked at each other and smiled. I guess they really liked him. “Scott, do you really love her?” “Mr. Deigert, I never imagined love could be like this. Yes, sir with my whole heart. The only issue I have is whether I will make enough money for us to live on. I want to farm like you. Well, more like Tessa. Sir, I think Tessa and I could take her ideas and run with them. We just need more land as I see it.” These were the words I wanted to say but had been afraid to approach my dad until I graduated. Maybe having a partner who spoke his mind was not a bad thing. “Well, Scott, I have been thinking about all the changes Tessa has made and thought I am getting too old to change all of my ways. Her mom and I have been thinking when Tessa graduates, we will give her this house and all of my acres and move in with my mom and just farm her land.” My mouth dropped and I was at a loss for words for a change. When mom and dad got married grandpa split his land and gave dad half of it. They still farmed together but mom and dad were responsible for the taxes and upkeep of their land. Dad’s sisters had no interest in farming and had moved away. Aunt May lived in Florida and Aunt June lived in California. We rarely saw them. “How about this? I give the land to Tessa and Tina will get the house that way you will always have a roof over your head. You will never be able to sell it though unless Tessa says it is okay. Of course, Tessa can live here until she builds her own house somewhere on this land.” “Mr. Deigert, that is very generous of you. Tessa, are you okay with this?” “Scott I can’t wait until you marry Tina and get her out of my bed. Just to warn you, she hogs the covers. Other than that, she is great. I think we will be great partners.” Scott got up and hugged me. Mom and dad, not wanting to be left out, got up to hug Scott and me. We were all hugging when Tina came into the kitchen. “What am I missing out on? Why are you all hugging?” I didn’t know what Scott’s plan was, so I spoke up. “Scott and I are becoming business partners.” “Scott, you finally asked her. Oh, Tessa he will be such a hard worker just wait and see.” Tina came up and gave Scott a hug and then turned and gave me a hug. I smiled at Scott, and he shook his head no like don’t worry about it. Then I saw him pull a ring box out of his jeans and he got down on one knee. I turned Tina around to face Scott. “Tina, I have thought long and hard how I would ask the love of my life to marry me. I thought she would want her sister and parents around and I hope I am right. Tina Louise Deigert, would you do me the honor of marrying me and making my life complete?” The squeal probably was heard all the way down to the Richards and Grandma’s. “Yes, yes, yes,” was all that was coming out of her mouth. I was so happy for them…for me too. I was getting a brother and a partner. I thought my life was pretty good. Tina on the other hand was worried about me. Later that night as we were going to bed Tina begged me to find someone so we could have our children together. “Aren’t you lonely? You don’t have someone to share your life with, Tessa. Please start dating, for me.” “First, I am not lonely. I don’t have time to be lonely. I am working my butt off at school and when I come home, I don’t stop. Second, I share my life with you. I don’t think I have gone a day without texting or talking to you. Don’t forget I went out on dates with Jonah.” The nudge I got from her told me she knew there was nothing going on between the two of us. “Okay, I will think about dating if it makes you happy.” Tina pulled the covers off me which made me take my pillow and hit her. That action started a pillow fight like we had when we were younger. We were making so much noise that dad opened our door to see if we were okay. He yelled to my mom, “Honey our girls have gone nuts.” Tina swung her pillow and hit him in the gut. Dad left the room and brought back his pillow, and mom came running in after him with her pillow not wanting to be left out of our family pillow fight. Mom finally said, “We give up.” Scott was leaning on the door watching us and we hadn’t even noticed him standing there. “I love this family.” As dad past Scott, dad hit him on the back of his head with a pillow. “Welcome to the family Scott.” Life goes on My sophomore year I decided I could graduate early if I took just one more class a semester and a few online classes in the summer. I could take the online at home as long as the internet didn’t get interrupted. I only had a few issues so as long as I stayed ahead of deadlines, I should be good. Maybe I could talk my dad into a better service. My advisor was against the overload, but because some of my classes could be credits for both my major and minor, I thought that would help me graduate earlier. I still wanted to take classes in the culinary arts, and I wondered if I could get my associate degree so I would have the credentials for being a chef. I really didn’t need the business part because I was already working on my business in agriculture. I really thought my culinary classes were my extracurricular activity. To be honest with myself everything was so easy for me. I just had to put the work in to get the degree so businesspeople would take me seriously when I talk to them about my products. Some weeks seemed to blend together. I didn’t know how I did it, but I was still making the dean’s list at winter break. I knew I was going to go home and sleep for a week. Tina and Scott came home for part of the break and spent a good deal with Scott’s dad. I apologized to Scott because I had missed his mom’s funeral. Mrs. Turner died after a massive heart attack. I had an exam that was a fourth of my grade and my parents told me that since I had never met her to just send Scott and Mr. Turner a card telling how sorry I was to miss her celebration of life. That was what they called it because she was always the life of the party. Mom and Dad invited Mr. Turner to our house for Christmas dinner. He and his wife had never come out to the farm before. Mr. Turner was always too busy to come. Well, Scott insisted that his dad had to at least come out to the farm for dinner. I thought it was my duty to make it the best Christmas dinner ever. I had picked up a few tips from my classes and was ready for a Christmas dinner gathering.My dad’s words were ‘my, you have put on a spread here.’ I went all out to make a fabulous dinner with table decorations and all. We started with a butternut squash soup. The butternuts were from my garden. I made a standing rib roast, garlic smashed potatoes and green beans, with a Caesar salad, homemade dinner rolls and for dessert I made a buche de noel. When I was cutting the dessert, I thought about Chase as I do every time I made it. I wondered what he was doing or where he was living? Mr. Turner was very impressed with the dinner. He suggested that I could open up my own restaurant if I wanted to give up the farm. Everyone laughed because they knew my answer…never. I would never give up on my farm. It hurt me to be at school and being away from it. We made a ton of food during the holiday. Mr. Turner kept telling me to call him Scott, which I couldn’t do. It was too weird. He called our Scott, Scottie. He was not a Scottie to me or anyone else. Mr. Turner was so happy to be with us, but you could see the strain on his face if someone brought up Mrs. Turner’s name. I felt bad for him. Since Scott wanted to live out here instead of staying with his dad that added to his pain. I knew being an only child had to be hard on Scott. I didn’t know what I would do without Tina. I knew my parents had us later in life. Dad always said he couldn’t get married because he was waiting for our mom to come to him. Mom came to our part of the world to start over. She had been married to a man who had died in a car accident. She met my dad at our church social because one of the other teachers invited her. It was love at first sight for my dad. It took my mom a little while to warm up to idea of getting married again. I was sure they would have had more children if they had met earlier. It was kind of sad because they were the best parents. My spring semester went by in a flash. My mom was so worried about me because I looked awful. She didn’t say awful, but I could see myself in the mirror and knew that it was true. If I didn’t come home on the weekends, I would never have sunshine on my face. I had not kept my promise to Tina. I did not have one date the whole school year. I saw Jonah once in the library and we talked for a half hour. Maybe I could say that it was a date. I promised I would do better in my last year. We all went to Scott’s graduation which was fun. My parents spent the night in a hotel, and you would have thought they were on their honeymoon. It was so cute to see them having fun and flirting with each other. I hoped I could have that someday. Flirting was so much fun. I just hoped you didn’t lose the ability to flirt if you didn’t use it. I slept in my sister’s dorm room. She was taking summer classes again so she could graduate next year. She was a little jealous that I knew what I wanted before I started college, and now I would graduate with her. I just hoped they were not on the same day because I didn’t want to miss seeing her get her diploma. We all went out to a fancy restaurant and Mr. Turner was so nice because he said my food was so much better. I was just glad he paid the bill. He didn’t like that we all ordered the cheapest thing on the menu. He kept saying, “I said I was paying for this dinner, and I want you to get what you want.” To make up for it he ordered a bunch of appetizers. Tina ended up with part of mine and mom’s dinner to take back to the dorm. Three little birds Scott and I came back to the farm after his graduation and started working on a plan for what we wanted to accomplish in the next five years. I told him I couldn’t plan much farther and we could revisit our plan in a couple of years if we felt like we were going in the wrong direction. I had to admit I didn’t like changing horses in midstream. It was one of my flaws. We decided to add a few animals to the farm. Scott wanted to add Pekin ducks to the mix because their meat was the preferred duck meat and he was confident that we could start supplying a few restaurants and if it were profitable, we could add a larger flock. We had a lake and a couple of ponds around the barn and since the cows were moved a few years ago to grandma’s property both of the ponds were looking a lot healthier. The lake was behind the house, so the cows never were bathing or doing other stuff in it. Scott professed, “Tessa, I have done my research I promise you. I think they will provide more income than expenses by far. There is some time that has to be spent when they are hatched and for the first three months but after that if we train them where their habitat is they take care of themselves.” “Train them? You want us to train the ducks?” “Oh, these ducks learn a routine and they want to stick to that routine. If I get everything set up, we won’t have a problem.” “You know I won’t be back full time until next year. Do you think you can handle getting everything ready?” “Yes, I can work on the pens and shelters for the emus at the same time.” “Did your dad look over the contract for the loan to make sure we were getting the best deal?” “I wanted to talk to you about that.” It was my biggest worry and now he was scaring me. “My dad said he is ready to sell the big house and move into a condo. He isn’t entertaining anymore, and he hates being in that big house all alone. As it is he doesn’t spend but about five hours at night when he sleeps. He wants to give me the money from the sale after he buys his condo. The problem is we don’t know how long it will take for the house to sell so we might have to wait a little while. Then we could be real partners.” I was flabbergasted and when I recovered, I shoved him in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you start with this! I really didn’t want to get a loan. I was only doing it because you thought we should.” “Well, I did want a loan, but dad didn’t tell me his idea until the night of my graduation.” I shoved him again, “I can’t believe you waited two days to tell me this.” I looked down at the table then looked up at him. “You know this doesn’t bode well with me, your keeping something this big from me.” “I have to tell you the truth. I was scared to tell you because the house is worth a couple of million dollars and all the furnishings are probably another million.” My mouth dropped and all I could muster was, “Oh.” “I promise I will never keep something this big or small from you again. I am guessing by your reaction Tina didn’t say anything about how much my family is worth. This really proves she loves me for me and not my money.” “Wow, she never said anything about you being from money. She did tell me you have a beautiful home and it was huge plus she would hate to have to clean it. She hates cleaning our house, so I really didn’t think it was that big.” I gave a nervous chuckle because of how much he was worth. Scott chuckled too, “Your sister is something else.” “Yes, she is. Look, by the way, I don’t expect you to Scott was shaking his head, “Since you have put in all the money for the land and prepping it, how about I put up the money for the fencing and shelters for the ducks and the emus.” I was shaking my head no. “Yes, you don’t realize how much you have already put in plus all your sweat equity has to count, don't forget. We have to come up with a new name for the bird’s part but we could leave the Deigert for the produce. You have been doing this for six years now and have a growing clientele. We could put up the bird's name under my name until we get big enough to have another company name. As far as an agreement I think my marriage contract will be enough for me. I plan on spending quality time with my wife so she will never want to leave me. I know I will never want to leave her.” “You two are almost as gross as my parents. I am glad you found her. Now, how about we name the bird part of the company Turner birds or something like that. I think it’s only fair that your name is a part of our company like mine. We could come up with a company that incorporates these two and we can draw a paycheck from them. I know it would be nice to stop putting every penny I make back into the farm. I would like to travel a bit. How about you?” “I know your sister wants a nice honeymoon. She says that after she graduates in May, she will need a rest, and she wouldn’t mind if it is on a beach somewhere.” “I know what she means. I have one more year of ball busting work. I don’t know if I will be able to come back much this fall because I have so much work to finish my culinary degree.” I gave a sigh. Scott looked at me with concern, “Why are you getting a culinary degree? You are the best cook I know. You don’t need a degree for that.” “I don’t need a degree for what I am doing now.” I was being a little shy but I really wanted to tell Scott my idea. “Touché. Do I have to worry that you will get tired of farming and want to be a chef?” He gave little nervous chuckle. Then looked at me with concern written all over his face. “Well, if I tell you, you will understand why you can’t say anything to Tina. If you don’t want me to tell you, tell me now. Though I am dying to tell you.” I was squirming in my seat, waiting and hoping he could keep a secret from Tina. “Okay as long as you know if she asks me about what you are going to tell me I won’t lie to her.” “Fair enough, I have been thinking about buying out The Crow’s Nest and making it a farm to table restaurant. I think my business degree will help with the running of the restaurant too. When you suggested emus, I was ready to jump on board. I learned about their meat in class: how it tastes like lean beef but is higher in protein with less cholesterol. As you pointed out, the fat pad on their back is a wanted oil in many industries so this investment is a good one. I know to make a profit the cost will be higher than beef. That said, we will have to convince the public that emu meat is better for them in all ways.” I saw how excited he was just by looking in his eyes though he hadn’t said a word. “So, what do you think, you aren’t saying anything.” “I am trying to get under control before I say anything! This makes me so happy, and I know your sister will be happy. I totally get why you don’t want to tell her yet, until you are sure.” “This is why I want a paycheck so I can save for the restaurant.” “Hey, I would so invest in your restaurant. I know my dad would love it if you would open a restaurant too. He has been telling me that you should be a chef not a farmer. This farm to table is so in. We could make it a destination restaurant. We will have to put up ads in St. Louis papers and radio stations.” “Hey, you are getting carried away. I haven’t said I was ready yet.” I liked how Scott was there to support me but it was too soon. Though with how excited he was it was hard for me not to jump at the chance. I had to have him take a step back. “Oh, right. See I told you I am so excited by your confession I could hug you. Hell, I am going to hug you.” He came over and gave me a huge hug. My dad came in just as he was hugging me. “Hey, isn’t one daughter enough for you.” “Oh, I am hugging my wonderful partner because she said yes to raising Pekin ducks and Emus. I am going to be The Birdman. We will offer free range chicken, duck and emu eggs. Though it will be a while before we have the latter two. We have to build up to that.” He smiled at me and kissed me on the forehead. Scott and I were now both going over to Mr. Preston’s to help him with his farm. We only went over there every couple of weeks to make sure he was letting the land come back to what it should be. The field that was across the road from the house he was letting become a hay field. This property butted up to Mr. Richards’ property. He was worried that some of their chemicals would come onto his land. I told him that we would get the soil tested to see how much spray came across to his property. We suggested that he let a strip of land become a natural barrier. He could plant trees and plants that are native to this area of Missouri. That suggestion made him feel better. Mrs. Preston was looking healthier than the last time I saw her; she has gained back some of the weight she lost and she had color back in her complexion. She wore a scarf with a straw hat like my grandma wears to garden in. I saw whisps of fine hair peeking out around her face so she hadn’t lost all of her hair. I was happy for her and Mr. Preston.

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