Nonna Italiana

I met a woman on the bus from Rome to Martina Franca who couldn't have been less than 80 years old and was so enamored with my embroidery that it prompted her to chatter non-stop for hours in Italian to me knowing that I could only understand about a tenth of what she was saying. She told jokes which had punchlines I couldn't translate, held my hands emphatically, and grasped my face while saying "bella, bella" over and over. After losing two grandmother figures in the last month, this love found in the most unexpected place was nothing short of miraculous.

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