Italian ambulance sirens make a peculiar wailing sound. One raced past our Airbnb apartment as I awoke that Tuesday morning. To my surprise, my daughter Tammie was already awake, uploading and labeling pictures she’d taken the day before. Slipping out of bed, I brushed my teeth and washed my face before going to the kitchen to fry eggs for our breakfast.

            Tammie came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Pouring two cups of black tea, I commented, “For breakfast we only can have one fried egg apiece, a small wedge of spicy sausage and fresh grapes,” My daughter nodded her approval. Our shopping trip the day before hadn’t turned out the way we had planned. The half dozen eggs we purchased at a market fell on the sidewalk. Four of the eggs broke. Spicy sausage turned out to be so full of red pepper that eating anything more than a bite or two burned our mouths.

Placing breakfast on the table, I sat down and questioned, “What does my tour guide have on schedule for today?”

My daughter thanked me for making breakfast and announced, “I’ve arranged for us to join a tour of the Pantheon. We’ll get on a city bus in about half an hour and it’ll take us within a few blocks of where we want to go.” 

A cloudless sky and a bright sun greeted us as we left the apartment. We didn’t have to wait long for the bus, but I felt fortunate to stand under the shade of a small tree. All the seats on the bus were taken, but when we boarded, two people stood up and offered their seats to us. Surprised, grateful, and slightly embarrassed, I sat down.

Continue reading →