La Passeggiata   

            Aeneas Piccolomini slips on his blue suit coat and adjusts the perfect knot of his necktie. He wears this suit and only this suit when they go out for the evening.

            The suit is blue, a light blue between a robin’s egg and the brilliance of a Tuscan sky. The tie is the same blue, exactly. His white shirt is starched and meticulously pressed. His dress shoes are mahogany brown, shined to a high gloss, as he treads with care down narrow, carpeted stairs to the foyer where Angela his daughter and Tonio his son-in-law wait, as smartly attired as he.

            He is a small and tidy, elegant man - “un piccolo uomo“- as his name implies. He stands straight as steel. His cheeks are slightly flushed and transparent as pink marble. His thinning hair is white. His nose is “Italianate” (so to speak) and his ears are small. His sightless, unclouded eyes are the blue of his suit.

            Angela says, "I want to hold your hand, Papa. The steps are uneven." She takes a hand, then gently his elbow. Tonio pulls the heavy oaken door closed behind them which latches with a solid snick. The trio descends and walks arm in arm toward the sunlight at the far end of the street.

            At Piazza del Campo, they join the passeggiata, and along with others they stroll in the orange glow and lilac shadows. They move and weave among mingled murmurs of a hundred voices that echo against buildings that line the square. Except for a small boy waving his arms flying his toy wooden airplane, people part as they pass. Many greet them.

            They are as striking as a freshly painted canvas.

            Aeneas cannot see, but he hears conversations in English and German, French and Italian. He knows the sweet aroma of the loaves in the panetteria, the bouquet of the florist, the taste of his friend Rodolfo's prosciutto across his tongue, and the musky scent of his cousin Michaele's wine shop where many tourists have sampled the wares over the course of the day.

            “Miki has done well today.”

            “Yes he has, Papa.”

            “Tonio, the crowds seem large for this time of year."

            “Si, Signor, they are large.”

            Aeneas looks directly ahead. His feet feel the cobbles like hands and he doesn’t stumble. He knows the sounds of each caffetteria they pass along their way. In his head, he also hears the thundering hooves of bareback racehorses of the palio, their frenzied dashing around the plaza.

            We find them on the first evening of the spring equinox, the three of them quietly carrying their thoughts in the waning day.