The Little Things

Italians, or maybe Romans more specifically, have a way of enjoying the little things. I hear Italians sharing stories that begin with “In my little village…” that continue lovingly about the foibles of the inhabitants and the community of nonnas. Here are two more little things that I enjoy.

We, hubby and I, were riding the bus, on our way to an eye-doctor appointment, and in the middle of the pandemic, on public transportation, a robust ragazzo, I would guess aged all of nine years old, rushed to sit opposite me. This little moment in the middle of the pandemic surprised me in the space of a few seconds with these observations:

  • His mother didn’t wrench him back out of the seat to maintain social distancing
  • She sat on the other side of the bus quite patiently
  • His skin was the pureness of innocence with the fine pores and slight blush worthy of the oil painting masters
  • His eyes gazed out of the window and did (what I have only seen here in Rome); they lovingly narrowed in a micro-movement that showed his mental caress of his city

Children are a marvel. Innocence is so very precious.

Another little thing that I treasure here in Rome is the pasticcieria, a different kind of pastry shop from the other wonderful pastry shops in Europe. The light, the not-very-sweet pastry, the smooth espresso, the laughing of the people around, make the environment a cherished little thing during this time of social distancing, masks, and never-ending vigil.