After dinner with my Dad and the lawyers Antonio hired for us. I went back to my hotel room to have a shower.
As I stood there, still wrapped in a towel, the warmth of the shower lingering on my skin, my phone rang with a familiar melody. With a smile, I answered, greeted by the excited chatter of my son Mason, who stayed behind with my mother in Italy.
"Mamma!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with childish enthusiasm. "Guess what? Nonna made my favorite pasta today!" because of hanging around with some of the children that belong to the workers at the vineyard he has started including the Italian dialect in his speech.
I laughed, the sound echoing through the room as I imagined his cute beaming face. "That's wonderful, Amore mio! I wish I could be there to taste it with you." I said I t
