I’d hit about six places so far and signed up a local farm to provide fresh eggs and baskets of fruit and vegetables. They were excited to work with the community, and I had an idea it was only the beginning. Even Mom decided to join me, expressing interest in how not-for-profits worked and how to get clean food to people who need it. She called me a clever businessperson, and though I groaned inside, it felt good to know she was proud.

I had big plans.

Later that night, I stared out my window at the full moon and thought of Ian. Thought of our trip, and how Enzo was coming for Christmas, and the way Mom came home for dinner now and seemed happy.

I knew there were a lot of obstacles ahead. Fights, anger, pain, sadness. I felt them so deeply sometimes, I wondered if I’d ever be able to be like my mother and look at the world with a sense of control. It was like I’d become a big open wound, but Italy had taught me not to be scared of it. I didn’t want a narrow, closed-off life.

Because there were adventures waiting around every corner.

And I couldn’t wait to find out what came next.

NOTE TO READER

I’d like to share a story with you.

My mother’s dream had always been to visit Italy, where her parents were born. But we’d never had the money or opportunity in our family, so we tucked that dream aside for a long, long time.

But one day, we made a decision that changed all of us. I decided I wanted to take her to Italy for her seventieth birthday, along with my niece, who was turning sixteen, and my godmother, my mother’s sister. All of us left our lives behind for a glorious fourteen days to experience our homeland and embark on an adventure. With the men taking care of the kids at home, we were free to just be us and bond together.

It was the trip of a lifetime. We celebrated my mother’s birthday in Tuscany, under a full moon, in a vineyard. We danced and drank wine and ate pasta. We talked. We learned about each other. We became close with our tour group members and forged friendships that revolved around an amazing shared experience.

As we made our way from Rome to Capri to Siena, I outlined a story about three generations of women who are lost . . . and come to Italy to find themselves and one another.