One Breath

By Gene Needham

Exhale, releasing my thoughts as within the moment of our deepest thoughts, our touch, our tomorrows, and BAM . . . the scent of gun powder, the warmth of blood upon my fingertips bringing life lived to a halt! The surest of things can change as Phillip and Maria wade through the depth of family traditions, de

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gene Needham Publishing
• Release date: Nov 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959173663

Book preview

Introduction

O

ne breath from our first one launched in innocence, to the last exhaled in relief, we find definition of who we are somewhere in between. With each potential, with another a chance of grandeur, but in the end, the one journey is only worth the steps we climb if we share life’s adventure. For to be seen only through our own eyes fails to capture the prism of our soul. That kaleidoscopic view is less because we did not achieve that joining of the minds, the melding of hearts, the bringing forth a volcano of emotion that erupts as it brings to flourish the new escaping from the captured breath shared.

Now, as hands raise the wine glass to lips, the flow simply holds less as it once did. Its bouquets capture senses that leaves one wanting. For the missing piece of that exhale is as evident as if the ocean suddenly lost its breeze. No wave of temporary gratification can rectify the resolve forged in sharing one breath. For it breathes life into the sails, passion rushes through our veins, and beneath buries a treasure that only hold those keys to uncover at a later moment. Yes, to simplify, one breath changes a life, one breath can change destiny, and one simple breath can become more in meaning than one can ever imagine … provided that breath is taken in sincerity.

No manner of reason can erase our beginning. Chance opens a door that bricks and mortar never can restrain in a rage of the storm of emotions. For souls that are destined cannot be denied, that one on one where the mathematics of heartbeats still creates a universe where all equations can remain possible. For hope is as strong as any religion and love ordains those bonds of the heart. God has always intended each Adam to have an Eve, and for Eve to have a part of Adam to fuse that bond beyond imagination.

For then, they both discover why together no possible horizon is without hope. With one breath, a prayer is lifted upward. Then, off in the distance, one breath replies, Amen!

Pages turn as life becomes lived. Relationships come and go as sands, often moving from shore to shore searching for their final destination. Some have faded place to place; none have a fabric of what the heart learned to desire; none have what I declared home … her one breath.

Chapter One

Steps through the heart

Opening windows to one soul

Stars illuminating the dark

As life’s spirit grabs hold

T

he past few days had been magical. Phillip and I laughed, learned, and landed into a seduction of possibilities within our time spent. From our dinner to the Colosseum, the museums, sharing lunch and even shopping … life flowed within our steps shared. That was until, while on our shopping spree, we entered my uncle’s jewelry store. Within that moment a beautiful day in Rome turned into a clouded afternoon shunned by my Uncle Ciro and his controlled temper. Never once raising his voice, the welcoming handshake he gave to Phillip in the showroom turned to sour grapes when I went back in his office. That warmth quickly turned to cold as the conversation between me and my uncle washed away the Harvest of Hope found within those moments I had spent with Phillip. That led to my decision as we spent the aftermath at the cafe. I felt that there was no alternative, no other choice but one … to stop us from going any further.

Walking away from Phillip caused my heart to ache. I did not remember even breathing as I stumbled up the stairs into the Hotel Gladiatori. Even foggier in my mind was the method of my arrival to my room. Each step weighed upon my heart as someone who had been sentenced to the gallows. Each moment within those steps came with an exhale of prayer in hopes of a saving answer. My compass of life, once so certain, had suddenly changed course. My heart and soul could not erase what my mind knew were incontestable facts … that I, Maria Giovanna Papei had been promised to Carlos Capriano in marriage. Promised to a man that I did not know, and even worse I did not love!

All throughout my days at Barnard, I had blocked out this deal that my father had struck with the Caprianos. I believed he would uncover the unjust found within his handshake promise through my mother’s eyes. I prayed to the heavens that one night while gazing into my mother’s soul he would remember just how it felt to be in love with her. Each evening I clutched my rosary while asking not for just any love, but for that agape love of a lifetime.

During those college days, Becky and Katherine Hinson, twin sisters from furniture money, scoffed at the thought when I spoke of the deal. Their response always was the same, Daddy would never thrust that upon us! looking down their nose all the while. The double dates, blind dates, and study partners that were shared never seemed to matter to me. Those boys I met spoke of their dreams but never appeared to have a grasp of what life truly holds for those who have life’s understanding. All of those passersby would educate me on what lessons I had learned while growing within our Italian home, that you build from life once your fill your heart from love.

Upon arriving in Rome, my journey was to be a simple concept. I was to connect with some of my family members while establishing a better grasp of our family history as Italians. Not the watered-down version sometimes found within America by those wanting to forget the harsh life before when they lived in Italy. Within these moments, I was to recapture the reason I am to accept the wishes of my father. My soul was to come to terms with what my heart so much fought for with each day of life. Little did my family know that the vacation they sent me on would change my view of the world within the reflections of my soul. They truly had no idea the magnitude of this journey.

Within that faltering step that brought my body careening to the ground, the dreams I once had as a child reopened within my mind. Again my prayers became relevant, not just the standard asking God for protection for my family and the usual friends who needed help. The prayers I thought to had fallen upon deaf ears had truly been were heard and even more … they might have had an answer. How could one single moment tear down what twenty-seven years of being a dutiful daughter had driven me to accept? What were the answers?

Uncle Ciro had wasted no time spreading his discovery of my time with Phillip to America. Then he continued the gossip, like the group of ladies that weave baskets to our family’s vineyard in Tuscany. Though his intentions were supposed to be well meaning, he truly had no right butting into my affairs. Upon arriving back at the lobby of the hotel, the front desk handed me messages marked urgent from my grandfather, Benito, and my father, Carmine. Each marked with the number of times they had called to the point where there on the note was an exclamation point! I first called my grandfather. I felt he would be the most reasonable since I was his favorite granddaughter. His voice was filled with a tone unfamiliar to me. As he and I talked, well he talked, and I listened, I could hear my brother, Daniele, chime in with his two cents worth in the background. I then proceeded to call my father. I saved that dreaded call for last. The screams from him were so loud I did not need to have the earpiece by my head. I held it in front of me with the vision of the veins in his neck rising enough where mamma would worry he would explode. Again, I was brought to tears. To my family I had committed an invisible sin that should have required me to immediately hop on a plane back to New York and straight into confession with Father Murphy!

As the tears flowed down my face, I flung together my clothing into my luggage. My hands that normally remained steady now trembled as my thoughts ran on how I had disappointed my family. I grabbed my toiletries and threw them into my smaller suitcase. All the while my thoughts racing to the point where they screamed, I’m a grown woman! Why do I have to go through with papa’s deal? My heritage told me why, my grandmother and mother explaining it to me a million times, yet I still was unsettled with these realities.

I searched the room to make sure every item of mine was accounted for. My thoughts raced from anger to those memories of dinner with Phillip. As hard as I tried, my thoughts joined with my heart in rejecting what was expected of me. My soul knew this was not how our life was to be planned out.

Bending down to check for shoes beneath my bed, a knock thumped upon my door. Three fast taps. The knock cleared my thoughts. I sprang to my feet, Just a minute. I yelled as I checked the mirror to view the river’s damage upon my face.

Once more my thoughts leaped in hope it was Phillip knocking. As I opened the door my hopes fell into disappointment.

"Signora, I have the car ready for you. May I start removing some of your luggage while I wait for you?" Antonio wanted to start the job thrust upon him by my decision to leave as a thief into the night. I knew he saw the disappointment in my eyes when I first looked at him, but he never changed his demeanor. His smile was still bright and eager to assist me.

Yes, Antonio you may. But before you do, I want to speak with you about a few things. With my response he entered my room. He reached for the two biggest suitcases and stacked my two smaller ones on top of them. His strength was obvious from the way his shirt clung to his biceps. Antonio, I do not want you or your family to discuss with Mr. Walker where I am going. I do not want him to know about my family’s vineyard either. Antonio had a puzzled look within his hesitation to answer me.

Si signora, I will make sure we keep your secrets. Mr. Walker … he stopped within the tracks of his thoughts with a nod of his head from side to side. I clearly could see he had more he wanted to express, but his respect for family caused him to bite his tongue. The truth was if he became inquisitive I don’t know how I would respond.

After he excused himself with the luggage, I stared into the mirror watching myself crawl out of my destiny found within my mind. I rebuked the possibilities of tomorrow as I repaired my mascara and freshened up my face with another trace of my passion red lipstick. Then my soul skipped one beat of my heart with one thought … if these emotions, these feelings are real, I have to take this chance!

I raced to the desk, my heels wobbling at the pace. The corner of the room seemed a mile away in the hurry. I opened the drawer as I sat upon the chair, pulled out stationary and one envelope. Inside my heartbeat pounded at my thoughts and this risk. My mind attempted to function well enough to compose this note I tore up my first attempt, then the second, while the third followed suit, all of them wadded up and thrown into the wastebasket. When the final thoughts came together, my lips mimicked what the pen put down. Quickly I finished writing. I folded the note, stuffed it into the envelope and sealed it, running my fingers over the flap several times just to make sure it stayed closed. On the outside of the envelope I printed his name, Mr. Phillip Walker.

Another knock lay upon the door. Quickly I gathered my purse, sunglasses and scarf. One last check in the mirror led me out into the night. It was not my choice to escape as a thief in the night, but it was what I believed was best at this moment. As we slipped past the front desk, I noticed no caretaker was present. I slipped the note into Phillip’s box. Through the front door, down the steps where Antonio waited with my door being held open, I entered the car not looking back.

As we started the long drive to Riomaggiore, I noticed couples flowing down the streets past the shops. Hand in hand they walked, and my envy surprised me even more than I believed it would. It was my own personal torment concluding this day of roller-coaster events. I pondered what Mr. Phillip Walker would do upon reading the note.

Did you and Mr. Walker enjoy the picnic today Ms. Papei? Vincent told me what he had arranged for your day. Antonio inquired, attempting to start up some small talk to pass the time. I hesitated with my response, but I did not want to be rude to his kindness.

Yes, we did Vincent … I mean Antonio … it was very thoughtful … the rose..the … I stopped short attempting to shut down any further conversation as my vision became blurred. Vincent and Antonio were twins, and I often got them confused. I wondered if they minded when people did that.

The reflection of the moon highlighted the rooftops of the buildings we passed by. The fields witnessed the beauty and shared in my memory of how the moon had settled in over the Colosseum that first night of sharing thoughts with Phillip. I did not notice Antonio tuning the radio into a station in an attempt to break the silence. The breeze of the evening continued to dry my face.

The drive was seemingly longer than ever before. The eternity brought my mind back to the past few days over and over again. Each moment I thought was put away upon my heart’s shelf now came and shook me to my very core. Each one pulled me deeper into my own box as I clutched my rosary, now in my hand.

"Signora, I have to stop for gas as well as to get something to drink. If you desire to get out and stretch your legs, you will have time." Antonio said, being considerate and giving me fair warning. When I had returned to the hotel, I asked Ciro if someone could drive me to Riomaggiore.

He never questions why I could not wait until morning and catch the train. He simply assured me that everything would be taken care of.

Antonio pulled the car into the next service station he found open. As we drove in, the attendant put down the bucket he was using to wash the windows on the entrance door. He came over to the car and was greeted by Antonio who had already escaped the ride to stretch. Antonio reached down and opened the door for me as he introduced himself to the man. They started their conversation about some game they both had been listening to during the day. I positioned my legs to step out for a bit and stretch as well.

As I exited the vehicle, I asked, "Signore, avete un bagno signore?" My question broke up their conversation and gathered some attention.

"You’re in luck Signora! I scrubbed it out not more than an hour ago. The bathroom is very clean for you!" he pointed to the side of the shop where a tow truck was parked.

After I freshened up, I started my walk to the car. As I turned the corner I saw Antonio opening the lid to the drink box. He grabbed himself an orange soda and said, Miss Papei, would you like a drink? They have orange, grape, root beer, and another drink that I have not tried called a Coca- Cola?

Thank you, Antonio, but I am fine at the moment. My response was very monotone as I slipped back into the car. My thoughts returned to my life when the attendant blurted out, Papei? Signora, are you any relation to Carmine Papei?

Before I could answer; Antonio chimed in, Si that is her padre!

She is a lucky! He is a great man that Carmine is. No one is stronger and the wine … my wife, well, she says I like it too good! he exclaimed as he returned the nozzle to the pump. At this point I noticed the night had been removed from the windshield as he closed the lid from checking the oil. He then wiped his face with his handkerchief, removing the humid night from his brow. I had thought when I exited the car it felt like rain.

I’m honored you enjoy our family’s tradition, Signore. Thank you for our gas and the clean restrooms. My response was in hopes of giving him some piece of satisfaction for his hard work. He lifted his hand and smiled as Antonio proceeded to return us to the road. The air flowed through my hair as the car sped down the countryside.

Riomaggiore was still a good distance away. Antonio was talking, but I had tuned the conversation out as I stared at the moon peeking past the clouds.

As we entered Riomaggiore, Antonio repeated himself, Miss Papei, where is the villa that you need to go to? My thoughts returned to the present as I attempted to compass my location. Go to the left when you reach Liguria-La Spezia Church. Then continue about one half mile and the villa will be on the right with a stone wall in front.

He down geared the shifter and maneuvered past the church. He stepped on a switch in the floor to brighten the lights to help see as we drove in search of the home.

Is that it, Signora? he asked, while pointing across the dash.

Yes, Antonio that is it. I said coming more into the present.

Our family had built this home many years before I was born. During the war it was damaged, and a beam had fallen taking the life of my grandfather and blinding my grandmother where they slept. It was a few days before they told her of his passing. She always said that her last sight was what she wanted: his face after kissing good night. Not a single member of our family had spent a night here since bringing my grandmother to our vineyard to live with us. It was now being sold next month so that the family would not have to continue paying someone to keep it up. I came here to revisit my childhood. Those memories of a little girl, rocking by the fire and listening to the stories, came hurrying back into this moment.

As the car came to a stop in front of the gate, the headlights shone upon the front door. Antonio opened my car door and waited. As I exited I could see how worn he was by his expression from the day. A full day at the hotel, then this five-and-a-half-hour romp for my escape. Yet he still smiled, never once complaining as he opened the trunk to remove my luggage.

As I opened the front door, I flipped on the light inside the entrance hall as well as the one that lit the doorway. The neighbor’s dog down the street howled at the break in his routine. The once large villa now seemed small since my grandparents were not there to greet me with open arms.

Antonio stepped in behind me, Signora where can I put these for you? The tiredness resonating in his voice.

Just leave them inside the door, please, I replied. The thump that followed clued me in that he agreed. He walked back to the town car for the last two suitcases without sounding another word. His steps clicked on the stones as he hurried along.

Straight to the French doors I sped to let out the unlived scent I presently discovered. The ghosts of days gone passed echoed as I felt the breeze enter in. The ocean sounds danced into my night while the moon still fought to be seen beyond the clouds.

Miss, will there be anything else? Antonio stood there diligent even though he already had gone beyond what was expected of him.

No Antonio, you have been wonderful. Thank you so very much! I said while handing him an American twenty-dollar bill I had removed from my wallet back at the gas station. This by no means was enough for what it meant to me, but it was a respectable amount to be given to him after what I had paid his father for having Antonio take care of for me. He had delivered me safely and would return back to Rome. I knew he deserved something for his effort!

He smiled, Grazie Signora, grazie. Enjoy your time here, Miss Papei.

He tipped his cap and escaped, shuffling through the gate, shutting the trunk and my door before fading into the night. The taillights quickly grew small as I turned off the outside light and watched him go.

Closing the door I returned to the patio to once more capture my view of the night sky. The moon was losing its battle in the clouds and I understood its desire to shine. I so wanted to do the same as rain drizzled down upon my face. I started to step in dance …

It’s easy as falling off a log … I remembered our dance as I twirled without him wrapping his strong arms around me.

Chapter Two

One Journey, One Life

Desires beyond imagination

Wandering into blinding light

A flame burns anticipation

"A

maro sol per te m’era il moire!" was a line from Tosca. While I was not dying, I felt that its conception of thought in Puccini’s opera was lived in my heart within this moment. While I had chased the American dream, and had succeeded so far, it now seemed so trivial in reality. Revolving in my mind was the past few days, becoming a silent movie where it screamed in desire and madness within me. The truth was, it had become a villain to my world, preventing a continuing moment of discovery where we might have been able to have gone.

Upon arrival at the Hotel Berchielli in Florence; I made sure I stayed busy to prevent my mind from wandering into what was not to be. My visit to the Pyramid of Cestius the previous day, and then the late-night conversation with Ciro, her uncle, gave me hope while also opening my eyes to what it meant to be Italian. He gave me the truth about who were the players and why everything was not as easy as two people wanting to be together. His brutal honesty was welcome as I always believed it to be the best policy. My journey upon the train for the 278- kilometers to

Florence did nothing to change my heart. Even my nap opened my soul to dream of how things could be with our situation. Embracing Tosca, touring the Castle Brolio, and even riding through the countryside in the little Fiat had not dampened my belief that something had changed and still remained between us.

I opened my journal to what I had written about my night at the Luna Luce Tentazione club. I still could hear John Lewis drawing a mental picture with his piano. The song performed by the bartender was also a pleasant surprise. Here was an American tending bar in Italy capturing the audience with his own song. The applause for his song was genuine as he was quite good in the performance. The words to the song fit the attitude of my evening. Its title, I Don’t Wanna Be Alone, resonated to the core of this man. Because, to be honest, I now realized that while I believed before this trip that I had everything, in fact Maria had brought the reality before me that I too did not want to be alone any longer.

Tired as I was from my full day, I still needed to prepare for tomorrow. My preparations for my vacation had revealed that Florence was originally a Roman colony in 59 BC. Its emergence from the Dark Ages as an independent city state opened the trade gates for the wool and textiles industry. The banking market opened the doors for Florence to become one of the most powerful cities in Italy in the 13th century. My thoughts were racing about all I was going to enjoy when I continued site seeing tomorrow.

As I pulled messages from my backpack I grabbed my journal as well. Worn eyes would not prevent my continuing to log my life down on the blank pages. I started going through messages where my family had called while I was out and about during the day. The six-hour time difference did not seem to bother my family. Most of us were night owls anyway. I did the dutiful son part and called my parents first. Everything was fine there, as was the case when I called my grandmother, Ida Mae Walker, who was the blessings to my sanity. She had always listened without judging me. We spoke in depth about what all had taken place in Rome in regard to how Maria and I met. Her opinion was given from living life, "Just remember that anything worth a hill of beans is worked for." It was her response to my questioning of what it was I needed to do.

Her support was always there as was my grandfather’s when he was still alive. They always had a thumbprint on how I made my choices in

life. I saw within their relationship moments that I never was allowed to enjoy, in regard to my parents. I had grown to know over the years that my father was reserved in showing his feelings not only to me, but to my mother, when others were around. His view of that being a weakness always puzzled me. How could three simple words make one weak?

My brochure on the Museo Archeologico showed that the Archaeological Museum was built by Giulio Parigi for the Princess Maria Maddalena de’ Medici in 1620. There again a reminder, Maria … the name saddened my heart once more. Still I wanted to view the bronze statues of a mythical lion with a goat’s head imposed upon its body as well as the Arringatore bronze uncovered near Lake Trasimeno in Umbria. Many other items were located on the third floor so I felt it would take most of my day to enjoy the tour.

As I returned the brochure to my backpack, out fell another letter upon the floor. On the outside was written, Mr. Phillip Walker in printed letters. Quickly I opened it with the letter opener on the desk. The opener’s ivory handle was smooth against the palm of my hand as the blade sliced through the seal without hesitation.

"Dear Phillip,

I do not know what you are thinking at this time, but I know already you are to stay in Monterosso tomorrow. I would enjoy continuing our growth and understanding. I am staying in a villa at Riomaggiore, and if you come here, we will see where our adventure might go. I will be waiting each day at dusk at the bell tower until I have to go to Venice.

Always I will remember our day,

Maria"

My heart leaped at these morsels read before me. She did experience the same feelings, or at least I believed she did because of the message. I folded it back to the original fold and returned it to its home within the envelope. The Hotel Gladiatori letterhead could not have meant more to me even if it was sealed with the wax stamp of the Pope! I pulled out my

map of the area to uncover how long of a drive it would be for me, 220 kilometers according to my measurement on the map. By leaving the museum in the early morning that would place me in Riomaggiore by sundown.

I picked up the phone and rang downstairs to the front desk, Yes front desk, Francesca speaking. She answered sounding so chipper for this time of evening. In the background I could hear a voice pleading with her in Italian, Solo un piccolo bacio il mio angelo. Cosa sarebbe male? Her attempt to cover the mouthpiece was failing as I chimed in the break up the conversation on the other end.

Yes Francesca, this is Phillip Walker. May I please have a wakeup call in the morning around five thirty? I could hear her speaking to the man on the other end and wondered if she had heard me.

"Si, Signor Walker, faro’ in modo voi siete chiamati allora. I mean yes, Mr. Walker, I will make sure you are called then." She said wakening to the fact she was speaking to me and not the man calling on her kisses.

Thank you, I replied as the phone hung up in the echoes of the man still pleading for her kisses.

I quickly brushed my teeth and then prepared for my adventure found the next day. I packed my backpack once more. I sharpened my pencils, made sure my eraser was in there, found the apple I had purchased on the street, and then returned to my knees as I do every evening.

Father, thank you for answering my prayers I sent to you last evening. I have always spoken to you about how I feel, and rarely have I asked for something for myself, but this time it was different. I knew that everything happens for a reason and never question your will either. But this time I needed you to show me what it was I am to do. Let tomorrow be a fruitful day, let it open my heart to the lessons it holds and let everything become food for my thought. Bless my family and watch over them as they go about their way. Amen!

I rose up and turned back the sheets. As I opened the windows to invite the night air to cool the room, I saw the moon smiling at me. So bright it seemed, so full it was as there were no clouds hiding it this night. I wonder if she too was seeing this vision in Riomaggiore remembering our first evening. I poured my glass of ice water from the ceramic pitcher on the

wash basin. Sipping it cooled my throat and gave me a brisk satisfaction in preparing for my dreams. I sat the half full glass that was remaining on the nightstand and crawled between the sheets. I did not feel I could sleep, in fact I did not know if I would. Maria had opened the door for this man to perhaps find a new life of wonder!

Chapter Three

My dreams, my hopes, now before me

A residence of beating for this heart

What road will tomorrow’s sunrise see

How shall the journey finally start?

T

he ring of the telephone woke me from my dreams. The night had been a struggle in my attempt to capture some sleep, yet around two in the morning my eyes finally faded. I flipped my legs over the bed and feet into my slippers as I felt alive once more. Humming as I shaved, I puckered to smooth out the areas around my lips, and as the water splashed away the remaining shaving cream I looked in the mirror and exclaimed, You lucky fellow!

I dressed quickly and gathered the items I was bringing with me to the Archaeological Museum. The knock upon my door reminded me of my breakfast I had ordered from room service. I opened the door to find an older gentleman standing there with the cart of food.

Good morning, Signor. I am Donatello, you ordered the spinach omelet with orange juice and wheat toast yes?

Yes, I did. Thank you for being so prompt. I have a full day and want to get on my way. I expressed to a face not showing any care or concern as he rolled in the serving tray.

Just leave the cart outside the door when you are finished sir, and we will gladly pick it up, he said with his palm turned upward. I reached for a couple of lira I had in my pocket and placed them in his hand. He did a simple bow as he turned and walked away closing the door behind him. Strange fellow. He reminded me of Mr. Taylor who ran the feed store back home … no expression upon his face and one not to be remembered.

I wolfed down my meal. I truly do not believe I had ever eaten a meal quicker … not even when I was a child aching to run out to play baseball with my friends in the lot across the street from our home. I rolled the cart back into the hallway and closed the door heading out to start this day. Thoughts of Maria were very present in my mind, while hoping that the note was not just my imagination dreaming that she, too, wanted a chance.

I arrived at the museum wishing I had not scheduled the tour now that I had a reason to want to escape seeing treasures preserved from Italy’s past. I rushed through, leaving the tour after the girls’ descriptions became slower and boring. I captured things with my camera that Maria might like to see in the future and then skipped most of the third floor all together, so I might start the long drive to Riomaggiore. The tank remained half full due to my re-filling it the previous day after my ride from Rome. I watched the sky as the clouds passed on by. The day was beautiful for the most part and my mind was putting together the things I would say once I saw Maria. Off in the distance a rainbow decorated the sky from a scattered shower just like we have back in North Carolina. We often chased rainbows after the summer rain. The cool water above the mud cooled off feet that earlier in the day burned on the pavement in the summer heat.

The speedometer showed I was doing sixty as I raced through the countryside. The hills and farms were a reminder of home. I saw the horses running so majestic with their mane seeming to float with the grace of their motion. The sun beamed down tanning my arm as the wind cooled my face as the vent did the same to my feet. I thought of my grandfather watching his pocket watch as it played a melody as he hummed along: "If it is worth being on time, then it is worth being there ahead of time!" he always remarked. I glanced down to see the fuel getting down to a quarter of a tank. I did not want to run out so I started looking for a station where I could fill up. Off in the distance the wind was blowing a sign showing 31 cents for regular. I knew I needed to stretch my legs and fill up before continuing the journey.

As I pulled into the station I noticed the man spraying the repair bay out with his garden hose. He laid it down on the ground and headed out to greet me.

How can I help you signor?

Fill it up please. Do you have a restroom I can use?

He motioned to the side of the building as he raised the windshield wipers to wash the kamikaze bugs that had ended up on my car during the drive. After finishing in the restroom, I returned to the car. As I did, I noticed the drink box in front of the station. I walked over and saw that they sold Coca Cola’s in the little 8-ounce bottle. I reached down and opened the bottle on the opener in front of the box. As I drank the ice from inside the bottle, it quenched my thirst. With little conversation between us, I paid the attendant. He returned to his cleaning as I drove back onto the main road. I knew I could not arrive at Riomaggiore soon enough!

Time did not fly as I had wanted. It seemed to have been days instead of just a few isolated hours. The sun started to fade in the distant sky as I came upon the road sign informing me that Riomaggiore was only 5 kilometers. My heart began to race as it did back when I used to play baseball in high school. That feeling of getting pumped up before the pitcher releases his best pitch, this was how much I desired to see Maria’s response upon my arrival. Quickly the five kilometers passed and now I was into the main part of town. In the distance I saw a bell tower with the cross on top. I felt certain this was it. Here was the moment where my life would be determined and my future unveiled. I spotted the fountain as I closed in upon the church. On the opposite side of the street were children winding down by playing dodge ball. Off in the distance I saw someone walking from behind the fountain, the woman’s shape was familiar but as dusk settled in it was hard to truly see if it was Maria. I stopped the car and pulled myself out from behind the wheel. As I rose up and stretched the road off of my bones I heard, Phillip is that you? followed by the sound of heels clicking the cobblestone road. It was Maria and knowing that caused my feet to join in rhythm with hers. There were no other sounds that entered into this moment; my heart thumped hard as we came together without incident. Our embrace was tight enough to struggle to breathe. As we pulled back I saw the tears stream down her face. I didn’t think you would want to come here Phillip. I … well I mean … she struggled to get her thoughts out.

I reached in my pocket and pulled out my handkerchief to wipe the tears.

"Maria, I did not find your note until last night after I got back to the hotel. My God, I