It's a time of year I find myself remembering the night I met her father and how many times I tried to forget him.
I remember his face perfectly even though I only spent one night with him.
It's hard to forget it when his daughter looks exactly like him.
He paid off my debts without asking for anything in return.
So when he offered to have a drink with me, I figured he meant at the casino bar, but he led me to his suite where the wine and conversation flowed.
I slept with him that night after having a bit too much to drink, but he was devilishly handsome with chiseled features and dark eyes.
And yeah, he got my virginity too, though I don't regret that one.
It's not too often a woman's first time is with a man who knows what they're doing.
He had me dripping multiple times and I will never forget it.
Especially since eight weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant.
I left Rome that same afternoon with everything I owned stuffed into two suitcases.
I changed my name, found a few odd jobs here and there, and after a few years of moving around and struggling, I found this place I call home and a great job using my knack for learning languages.
Sofia comes back into the kitchen with her tights on and her backpack slung over one shoulder.
She looks grumpy as she says, "I don’t want to go to school."
She slumps onto a chair as I start gathering my things.
"Sofi, please. I know Lucia got to be the angel, but shepherds are more important. They got to see the baby Jesus first, you know?"
Her little scowl as she crosses her arms is so adorable, I almost melt and tickle her.
When she gets like this, I sometimes let her stay home and sulk, but I can't today.
My meetings are too important.
"Well, I don't care. Shepherds just get a stick. Angels get wings." The pouting continues, complete with a lip pushed out for good measure even as I grab my house key and move toward the door.
"We'll be late, baby," I tell her gently, and she stands and stalks over to the coat tree where she grabs her jacket and wads it up under her arm.
We leave the apartment together and walk down the narrow stairwell that's a balmy temperature thanks to our older landlord who likes things warm.
The street outside bursts with noise.
Cars honk at each other over nothing.
Vendors set up their carts along the sidewalk and shout about fresh bread and vegetables.
And it's mild for this time of year too.
Normally, we need heavy jackets in November, but people are walking around in light shirts and slacks.
I take Sofia's hand and cross toward the bus stop where three other mothers already wait.
They chat among themselves, probably about holiday plans and school fundraisers.
I don’t join in the conversation because I like to keep to myself.
