By Haley DiRenzo
Desperate to stretch out our last night, we stopped on the way home from dinner at the gelato place we spotted on the walk to the restaurant. I ordered a green globe of pistachio, and we sat on the terrace like we were in Italy—the almost midnight weather still warm enough in early October to pretend. But we didn’t need to because New York was as magical as any country, and we felt as giddy as we did those summer nights in Florence six years ago. A belly full of handmade pasta, I took three bites, offered you the rest.
Perfect flash, to me. The meaning is deep under the surface, and we don’t really need to know what it is. The details and memory of Italy make it come alive.
Sweet. Vivid.
Reminds me of my husband and our gelato trips….we’ll never make it to Italy.
Thanks, both. Sue, never say never, but also I hope this story shows you can bring Italy to you!!
Beautiful imagery. Such a touching story!