Second Chance in Italy

The melodies from the street performer’s guitar entranced me, pulling me towards the small crowd gathered in the town center. His velvet crooning blended effortlessly with the strum of his guitar and anchored my feet to the cobblestone pavement, making me forget about the rich and creamy gelato I was hunting for.

I wasn’t fluent in Italian, but I knew enough to determine he was singing about a long lost love. I became misty-eyed as grief reared its ugly head, reminding me of the tender moments I shared with my late husband, Antonio. Before his unexpected passing, we made plans to revisit our honeymoon spot to celebrate our five-year anniversary.

As I listened to the street performer belt out passionate lyrics that brought tears to my eyes, I wondered for the first time, if I’d made a mistake coming here. I distracted myself and scanned the crowd, and I was about to leave when my eyes connected with a pair of magnetic honey brown eyes.