Via Vingna Tuscana
I squeezed the swollen window open and leaned over the damp sill to see who had rang the buzzer. It was Babo stopping by to invite me for lunch with the family.
I dashed down the narrow stairway through the courtyard to the gate. I leaned on door, and pulled the latch up, opening the tall gate just enough to slip out to meet my host’s Dad.
Though, short in stature, Babo, was a giant to me. This happy Italian baker survived the war by translating for the American soldiers. His English was comical, but always warmed with laughter and an Italian song my heart treasures.
We wove past the lunchtime crowds and up, yet another flight of stairs. Michelangelo might have visited friends for lunch in this very house. Built over eight hundreds years before, these old buildings sway in the wind and echo a past as solid as the stones they’re built with.
Babo lit up the worn steps with ease and only took a breather at one the fifth landing. I welcomed the rest…we had four more flights to climb.
We could hear Mama and Lucia at the top, laughing and cheering us on. I guess no one gets used to the hike, but all arrive with an appetite!