I met you eight years ago, at night, on a patio perched above the boats in Riomaggiore, Cinque Terre, Italy.
Me: tipsy, wrinkled black dress, unbrushed hair, too many freckles from too much Tuscan sun; discussing life, love, hits and misses with my friend Kerrie.
You: too tanned, too tipsy, too bold and too interested in what was going on at my table; arguing Italian politics with your friend with the same name, Alessandro.
Who knows what cards you get dealt in this life; looks like I got dealt a stunning hand.
Together we have sailed through fantastically thunderous storms and tranquil calm seas. We learned each others language. We rushed an Italian wedding. We conquered Italian and Canadian immigration. We balanced new jobs and friends in two countries. We’ve swung between elation and frustration. We’ve waited lots. We’ve cried lots. We’ve laughed more. We bought our home- tried to make it ours, patching walls and roof and filling days that were already too full. We were blessed with the best gift the universe could conjure for us- our daughter.
Tanti auguri Alessandro! Buon Compleanno. Happy 35th Birthday.
You are beyond brave, beyond kind, beyond my best friend. You are always authentically you.
Thank you for the last eight years. Ti amo.
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