Love to the mechanics who never charge me for their time and who wave as we walk by each evening. Even though maybe they were actually waving to the woman walking behind me, but now they’ll remember since I so enthusiastically returned the cheer.
To the pet store lady, who though seemingly closed and only slightly thawed cheerfully exclaims, “Bravo, fatto la pipi!” You need to learn that she is a friend and where mommy buys all your tasty yum yum. Stop barking at her when you’re agitated and she’s waiting for the bus.
To the pizza guys and the Shell guy who gave me the little fuzzy chick for Easter. I keep it on my desk and rub it against my cheek and it makes me feel giddy and like I’m four again. Soft.
To the nonna who took my arm to cross the hurried street this evening. Her big green eyes, staring up at me and telling me how sometimes she and her granddaughter buy pizza from the pizzeria and take it home to eat. Want to be so enchantingly loving today, not 50 years from now.
To Antonio who always makes my macchiato with real whipped cream and not just foamed milk and on days when we’re really lucky, with a glaze of chocolate inside the cup.
To those Tuscans who make that damn good olive oil and only slightly raised my blood pressure through their disorganization and lack of bar codes. An invitation to visit them, to someone they’ve only spoken with by email and phone.
To Massimo and his offer of home.
To everyone who reminds me when I forget, to leave it open. It’s better that way.
No comments:
Post a Comment