The Florence Diaries: Heaven is a Rose Garden

At first it was humid. The air was sticky, hot, enveloping. Later it became crisp; Dry to one’s delight by October. Accessibility was our only problem. The stairs left us sweaty and out of breath, even in the colder months. We lay in the grass, sat and talked, died of laughter, drank wine, watched the sunset, and cursed the distance between the rose garden and the bathrooms. Was it worth the extra hike up to the top? Could you hold it till we got home? It’s only a 20 minute walk if we hustle.

We’re fast walkers, we’ll be fine.

Ugh, someone’s in OUR spot. It’s okay, they’ll move soon.

I never read more than a page of my book. I brought it with me every time. Megan read, and I existed. It felt like meditating. If pretending to read a book in a rose garden overlooking Florence, Italy is meditation, then sign me up for the rest of my life.

Father Mckenzie by the Brook and the Bluff. Kids by OneRepublic.

We were on top of the world.

Heaven is a rose garden.