Venice, you are complete and utter magic and I love you more than I can possibly express. Like salt and pepper, we go together.  A city with no cars, where children laugh and run freely through the streets eating gelato, where families sit outside drinking wine is the norm and lines of color hang over the street above them in the form of shirts, pants, and handmade quilts, I love you.  A city that sits on water and is connected by bridges.  A city where every turn is more perfect than the next, a city that is filled with a quiet, unspoken beauty.  You took my breath away more times than I can count.  Quite simply, you are like living in a dream. You are absolute beauty and complete simplicity.  You are heaven on earth.

For quite some time, I haven’t wanted to post this last part of our trip because it would mean it was really over.  Okay, so it’s been over since early May when we got off the plane and stepped back into the whirlwind of life in New York City, but I’ve tried to keep Italy as close to my heart as I could, trying to keep even a fraction of it with me, always.  That means moments of stillness, quite evening strolls, eating for pleasure and sharing bottles of wine on weeknights, daily gelato treats, walking everywhere, and a rich culture of family and language.  It will never be Italy in New York, but I will try to keep it as present as I can in my life.  If that means having to bite into a delectable slice of Stracciatella from Motorino and closing my eyes to taste the goodness on a regular basis, I’ll make that sacrifice.  I’ll taste the taste, smell the smells, hear the sounds, and in that moment, I’ll be back.  Back to long Italian lunches orchestrated by bottles of wine, back to the moments where life slows down but if only for a moment.  Life Italian style.  Yes, please.