Make a dream come true

For yourself or for someone else. Take a class or learn something you've always wanted to. Help a loved one or a stranger do the same.

This trip came to be after eight months of Oliver expressing an ardent desire to visit Pompeii. He's listened to The Magic Treehouse story, Vacation Under the Volcano, countless times and the ruins and still-alive Mt. Vesuvius had captured his imagination. 

It helps that visiting Italy likely means seeing my sister and her family. It helps that we found good ticket prices and are so very fortunate to be able to take trips like this. And it helps that spring break started on Oliver's birthday which felt awfully special and auspicious. 

In any case, we decided to make a dream come true for our little boy, and I'm so glad we did. What a joy to see him take Pompeii in yesterday.  

I think he was overwhelmed at first, couldn't believe has was there, couldn't quite grasp the enormity of it. Plus, he's 7. He walked for hours, scampering up anything he could, learning the difference between the marble thresholds of the homes and the notched stone ones of the shops.

He delighted in the fact that Pompeiians fixed dyes with urine, and Jack went nuts when the guide mentioned three separate elements: Mercury (sulfide) in the red fresco paint, copper in the blue, and lead, as in the original lead pipes we saw. I adore the nerdy bits of my boys.

Some pictures of a beautiful, memorable day. 

Starting our day off right. 

Pompeii, near the entrance. 

Ol in the amphitheater  

Ruts worn in the paving stones by carts over the years

Original frescos in a home

Marble lion, part of a table base

A snake fresco before the brothel; you should see the menu of options folks had!

Vesuvius in the background

Enjoying a Neapolitan pizza! 

Quick rest

Ol's gift to himself at the archaeological museum in Naples. He thinks it is hilarious! 

Photographs

Take them. Of anything and everything. When you're older, you'll love looking at younger you, waxing rhapsodic about your lack of laugh lines, gray hair and general sag. Although you may love current you, younger you will always be a revelation, from infant to young adult. 

The story of you and the stories of your family weave together into your life's quilt. A plait of memories and pictures and oral history and food will coalesce into a thick braid through which you form at least part of your adult sense of self. 

I don't remember living in Mobile, Alabama, during Hurricane Frederick, but I know I did because my mother took pictures. I can map the faint scar on the interior part of my right ankle to the time I cut it on a fence felled from the storm. I was 5; I don't remember anything, but I've seen myself skipping along the wide truck of a fallen tree, joyful despite the ruin around me. I suppose I cut myself sometime around the moment that photo was taken, a little girl playing one minute and a'tumble the next.

As an adult, I find photographs to be a creative outlet but also a means of recording the details I can't imprint during the seeing and teaching and experiencing. This is especially true since having and traveling with my boys. They are kinetic and inquisitive and busy, none of which is particularly prone to quiet study. 

Since we've arrived here in Rome, I have been overwhelmed on almost an hourly basis by the beauty around every corner, in every nook and on each horizon. It's an embarrassment of visual riches really; how are people who grow up here changed by such constant access to architectural genius, historical treasure, and aesthetic perfection? 

Today I leave you with a humble suggestion: take pictures of the places you go, the people you meet, the sights that stun you in any way. They will change your perspective on the world in which you live, on the ways in which others make lives. These are memories that can ride with you into the years, enriching you (and your family) for generations to come.  

A statue on a bridge to Castel St. Angelo

a stunning doorway

Hulling fresh peas for dinner  

The view from our kitchen window: never.gets.old. 

Mozzarella dripping with fresh oil and sprinkled with salt. 

Oranges at a market. 

An old everything-place near the Vatican. 

Knives at the bloody ready at the butcher's stall. 

The lovely man who made me fresh taboule and said we must eat it within ten minutes. It was divine. 

Lighting candles for Nanny and a friend.  

Sometimes, being an island is the way to go

Friends, you will on occasion, sometimes more than others, not like the people you love. This is normal and OK, as long as your love is true and your dislike isn't constant. Children, partners and parents probably fit this bill most frequently, but we all know that sometimes, friends, acquaintances, presidential candidates and complete strangers can feel like despised entities.

In these moments, please feel you have the right to go radio silent. A glass of wine is a nice, quiet comrade but so is a coffee or cup of tea and a chocolate cookie or the like. 

I may or may not have taken" five-to-fifteen" tonight around 7:30pm. Armed with a glass of wine and an active Instagram feed, it's possible I gave Tom the Code Red look and hauled ass to the next room. 

Everyone was tired, Ol lost a found "treasure" today and his tears plus Jack's supportive ones might have solved California's water crisis had we been stateside. We ingested the whole of the Colosseum and the Forum, we walked and walked, and J literally talked for thirteen hours straight.

People, I just don't care about the permanent Inquisitor that you can buy with a zillion coins in Angry Birds Star Wars. I also do not feel that the children need Star Wars hand-cuffs bought in Rome or more than one gelato per day when they act like amped-up speed whores afterwards.

Frigidarium has exceptional gelato.

We are having a grand time, but family "vacation" is really quite a misnomer in some moments of said getaway.

So, be an island when you need to be. Islands are often vastly interesting, independent things, full of fascinating life, unique ecosystems, and beauty. Be that island and restore!

Chin-chin, salute!

Blissed out in a dreamed-about place

The Temple of Antoninus and Faustina on the Roman Forum. Built 141 AD.

the remains of the Temple of Vesta, on the Forum (also where, PS, the freaking vestal virgins kept the flame alive. I do believe being a vestal virgin guaranteed women a better life than they'd have had otherwise, BUT being a vestal virgin couldn't have been much fun.)

beautiful view tonight while walking in Rome.