Inside, soft Italian music played, blending with the sounds of laughter from the piazza.
“My God, this place is magical,” Millie said, walking towards a display table in the center of the store.
“It really is, isn’t it? I have to admit, I’ve never been inside this store before. I know my Ma has bought some clothes for Aura here, though,” I reply, admiring the neatly arranged clothing racks.
I saunter to the back of the store to find a small café, the aroma of fresh pastries filling the air. I purchase two drinks and a pastry for Aura.
The store feels more than just a shop. But a place brimming with love and creativity. I appreciated the entire atmosphere as it reminded me of simpler times.
The place where time slows down. Where strangers greet each other like family, and every item on the shelf tells a story. I want to remember this moment. The low hum of voices, the clink of coffee cups, Millie’s laughter in the distance, and Aura’s coos as she reaches for a stuffed bunny on the lower rack.
I find Millie and Aura at a rack overflowing with frilly dresses lined with sequins.
“This place is so enchanting,” Millie begins, before noticing the drinks in my hands. “Have I been so preoccupied in my own world that I didn’t notice you leave the store?”
I shake my head. “No, Bumper, I didn’t leave the store. I found a little café area in the back and wanted to get you a drink. Here, it’s a latte macchiato.”
She takes the drink from my hands, carefully bringing the edge of the cup to her lips to take a sip. She moans pleasurably, “My goodness, this has to be one of the best drinks I’ve had while here.”
“If that is the best drink you’ve had here, then you haven’t been exploring the city well enough.”
We leave after spending another hour in the children’s boutique, having done only a bit of damage, adding to my daughter’s already large closet.
The rest of the afternoon we spend, going to all the littleshops and bakeries that fill the shopping center. Our final stop being at a small family-owned restaurant.
“Table for two, please,” I say, before getting jabbed in the side by Millie.
She pointedly looks at Aura in the stroller, and I add, “And a baby.”
The waitress seats us at a booth, providing a high chair to put Aura in. We order our drinks, and I insist Millie tries the wine on special.
“Gabriel, Aura is here,” she hisses, nodding her head in my daughter’s direction.
“So, you’re not on the clock. I’m here.”
She shakes her head but orders a glass of wine. I look at the waiter and say, “Una bottiglia di vino, per favore1”
As we wait for the waiter to return, we talk about Aura’s first birthday. According to Millie, we have to plan sooner rather than later.
“I was thinking we could have it at the house since you are right on the water and have an amazing house for hosting,” she says, before being cut off by our waiter reappearing with our drinks.
“Saluti! What can I get you?” The waiter says, looking at us.
Millie looks at me anxiously.
“We’ll start with the bruschetta per favore. Can we have a buffalo for our meal?”
The young man nods and trudges away.
I lean back in my chair, savoring this moment. My girls looking back at me. “This, right here, is what Italy is all about, girls,” I say, taking a deep breath of warm air infused with the aroma of fresh herbs and garlic.
“That’s great and all, but what is a buffalo?” Millie asks, her tone a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.
“You’ll just have to wait and see, Bumper.”
And in that moment—sun streaming through the window, Millie laughing, Aura babbling over her breadstick—I realizesomething undeniable: this feels like home. Not the building, not the city—them.
We arrive back at the house at around seven, and Millie mutters something about getting Aura ready for bed. Even though I gave Millie off for this entire vacation, she still is doing everything she normally does for Aura.
