School days . . .
An early morning message had me misty eyed. One of my former bosses, colleague and friend, was perusing Instagram and stumbled upon one of my photos…
Home is where the love is . . .
I sit shotgun as my cousin Moira zips down the tiny, narrow streets of Somana into Mandello. Windows down, the mountain air blows through the car.…
Wherever I go . . .
Tapping away on my keyboard, I reread phrases, type and delete words, and feel a range of emotions in the span of a few hours as…
The journey continues . . .
Scrittrice. . . The Italian word for a female writer, and extremely difficult to pronounce. Sometimes when I power walk along the canal I say it…
The magic I have . . .
It’s raining in Milan, gray and dreary. I wonder if the weather has anything to do with how I feel, missing home. I talked to my…
Thanks for the love . . .
My Faithful Friends, Tis the season to show some gratitude . . . and give a little love. I am grateful to all of you for…
Keeping the faith . . .
Since arriving in Italy, I have spent a good amount of time visiting churches, cathedrals and even an abbey. It’s not unusual for me to pass…
Thanksgiving . . . Italian style
Thanksgiving . . . my favorite holiday This year I will spend it far away from my family, my home, my country. Traditionally, my family cerebrates…
So far . . . pretty good
Not sure of the time, but I know I am calling it close. Racing down the station steps, the familiar rumble and long slow hiss of…
The nearness of you . . .
A light breeze blows through the kitchen of my uncles’ home, a little relief from the hot steam rising above the iron as I press a…
