Velato or...Our Veiled Home
Aria Amora
Rocco had to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder to get me out of our veiled home.
Nel Cielo.
Meaning, “in the sky” or “in heaven.”
Both worked for me, or as my husband had said to me, “Essere al settimo cielo,” meaning, “To be in seventh heaven.”
I sighed wistfully as he carried me back to Apple Blossom. This time, he set me in the shotgun seat and took the driver’s seat. I had a feeling he thought I was still floating in the clouds and wouldn’t be able to see straight enough to drive us down.
He was right.
A goofy grin was stuck to my face, and I was pretty sure hearts were floating in my eyes.
Nel Cieloneeded a lot of work—and I loved it. I loved the idea of making the place ours. It had been abandoned, and it needed us as much as we needed it.
Rocco had said the property had belonged to someone in his family, and after the family members became too old to care for the land, he’d purchased it. He wanted it, mostly, for the winery. He’d never seen the old villa until after he had made a day tripdown to check on the winery. The past owners never did much with it, since it was the grapes they were after.
It was completely enough for us, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it. I couldn’t wait to get them dirty, get specks of paint all over my clothes and in my hair, while also respecting the beautiful bones of the place. I couldn’t wait for my scent and my husband’s to mix and go beyond walls and hit wood. I couldn’t wait for our memories to fill up the place, adding to the ones already made.
As soon as Rocco had set me down in the villa, I just knew.
We had been invited in—we had been invited in to make the place ours. A warmth radiated in the air; one I could barely describe in mere words. Warmer than any other place I’d ever been in, including the childhood house I grew up in. That was the only home I’d ever known, but it was never truly mine. I loved having the place to sit with my childhood memories and reminisce, to be closer to my grandparents, but with all that I was, I knew the villa in the clouds was meant to be ours.
The windows were rolled down in Apple Blossom, and maybe it was dirt from the dry road, but what seemed like more clouds floated around us as Rocco made his way down.
We were both quiet, reflecting on what our hearts had found and already known:Nel Cielowas our forever home. If I would’ve been to the place before Rocco, although I knew I would have thought it beautiful, it wouldn’t have had the same feeling as it did when Rocco was next to me. Same for him. He’d been there before and left it.
Together, we brought out the welcome, the magic. And that feeling? Again, indescribable.
I twisted my hair up, my bangs lightly fluttering in the breeze, and closed my eyes to the warmth of the autumn sun.
Behind my eyes, reels ofNel Cielodanced in my memories.
What it was: a place that needed love and attention to make it a home again.
What it was going to be: our home.
The light was grand inside of its walls. So many windows to allow the outside world in. The bones of the place were in amazing shape, especially for its age, but we’d redo the wooden floors, change out some of the broken tiles, and give the walls new coats of paint. We’d salvage all the antique furniture, give them oxygen again after the dust was blown off.
Apart from the picturesquecucinawith a view overlooking the rolling Piemonte hills, and of course, our sanctuary, our bedroom, the room Rocco had made me close my eyes to before he surprised me with it still made my heart flutter and my breath catch.
My own writing space.
It, too, had vast views of the rolling hills, all his prized grapes, and my own garden to tend to right outside of its door. I already knew I didn’t want edible plants there, but a magical garden that would invite butterflies to stretch their wings when they landed.
Just being inside the room had given me a spark, a creative heat inside of me that almost made my fingers ache for the keyboard. I wasn’t even going to acknowledge, not then, the fact that once I started writing, truths I might not be ready for would reveal themselves.
That worry was for another time.
That moment.
That moment was for us to revel in.
Rocco looked at me, and I looked at him. Our grins came slow as we made our way back to the main estate in Tuscany.
