One of my favorites from my blog "Patty's Having Fun!".
Originally published March 23, 2010
There is a man who lives in Florence. He owns a little shop established in 1912 that sells the finest clothing for children in all of Florence. The clothes are all handmade and of the finest quality fabric. His name is Allesandro. He is a kind man. He is a proud man. He believes that God has smiled upon him because he is a man with a cultured, beautiful wife, a sweet lovely daughter who adores him and a strong, intelligent son.
Allesandro is quiet, unless he is required to speak. His communication is mostly conveyed through the position of his eyebrows as he looks directly at you and also, through the tilt of his mouth. He has a pleasant attitude so his face most often holds a half smile and a kind eye. Except when he is looking at or talking to his daughter. Then he smiles.
Her name is Beatrice (Bee-a-tree-chee) but he refers to her as Il Fiore (The Flower). From the moment of her birth she has been the most beautiful vision he could imagine. As lovely as a flower that grows more enchanting with age. She was his pet and he showered her with gifts. He had to try hard not to indulge her too much and spoil her sweet nature. His favorite gift to give her was a flower.
It started one day when he brought home a silk flower for her hair. It was on a little clasp and her mother would pin it to the top of her head. That little flower and many successors would bob around his knees, sit on his lap, chase the dog and happily chatter at the dinner table.
One day Il Fiore brought home a young man. To Allesandro this person looked like an immature bird, fresh from the shell. He was angular, ugly and seemed ...unfinished... but Il Fiore was in love with him. Eventually they were to wed.
The day dawned too quickly for Allesandro. He soon found himself wearing his finest suit in the church of San Lorenzo with his beautiful flower on his arm. He handed her over to the bird and he stepped back to his wife. She held his hand as he sat and watched as his fiore left him. He knew she would forget how much he loved her. He looked at her again and noticed her beauty. She was as lovely as her mother with the same mannerisms, features and tilt of the head.
It was then that he noticed what she had pinned in her hair, under her mother's antique lace veil. It was the first flower he ever gave her. The same flower that sat on his lap and ran in the sun to greet him when he returned from the shop. His heart grew warm and the tears fell from the sides of his eyes. He did not feel them. He did not dry his face.
He enjoyed the wedding and after the ceremony the wedding party walked in the street to the home of the brides parents where there was a feast and celebration waiting. Allesandro knew all the preparations were made and he left the final worry up to his wife, since women worry even after everything is done and perfect. He walked slowly back to his house well behind the wedding party. He fell so far behind that he was separated and could not hear the excited laughter and conversations of his family and friends. But he could see that flower on the head of Il Fiore. He was smiling.
A group of tourists were walking between him and his family. He was still not worried. He watched Il Fiore as little girls from the houses would run up to her and give her a hug. She would bend down in her beautiful gown as they wished her well and told her she was beautiful. One little girl hugged Beatrice and in doing so touched her hair loosening the clasp that held the flower on Beatrice's lovely head. He could see, even from his distance away that the flower was going to fall out.... and be lost... or crushed on the street.
Allesandro quickened his pace as the flower fell from Il Fiore's head. It fell onto the sidewalk. People were walking back and forth. He watched as one of the tourists noticed the flower as it lay on the sidewalk. She bent down for a closer look and his heart quickened. He knew it was just an ornament but to him it represented what he shared with his daughter. The time in her life when she admired him. When she was just a little girl.
Then he stopped as he watched what the tourist did. She stood above the flower. She pulled out her camera and then pushed her long blond hair behind her shoulder. She bent directly over the flower, snapped several pictures and then walked away. Leaving the flower where it lay. She was smiling as she turned around for one last look.
His breath came back. He walked slowly up to the flower and stood above it, too. He said a prayer thanking God for the beauty of his family. For all the blessings bestowed upon him. He prayed for his daughter's happiness and the success of his new son. He bent and picked up the flower, wrapped it in his handkerchief and walked home.
Late that night, before the bride and groom left for their new house his daughter walked up to him and gave him a kiss. Her face was happy but she said, "Did you see it Papa? I wore Il Firore just for you today to let you know I would never forget. But it was lost. Probably when I was dancing and I cannot find it now. But I want to make sure you saw it at the church." Allesandro nodded and smiled as he pulled the handkerchief out of his breast pocket. He unwrapped it and showed it to her.
He said, "I'll keep this for you. It will stay here, in this house where you grew up. Someday you will bring me another lovely flower. She will look like your mother, too, with a smile to light the day. Your mother will comb her hair and this little flower will again sit on my lap and run in the sun and make noise in my house."
To this day that flower brings him joy. When he sees it his eyes are kind and his mouth smiles.
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Photographer, Renee Bartle, plays herself in the story.
She suggested I write a story to go with this photo.
Parts of this story are true. Especially the part about Renee snapping a photo of this flower on the sidewalk in Florence, Italy. Also, I'm sure, somewhere in Florence there is a man named Allesandro and a woman named Beatrice. I hope life's treating them well.. but, hey, they live in Florence. What more could a person possibly want.
More photos:
http://www.imagekind.com/Rome-_art?IMID=b1545703-392e-4226-aaf0-626dd09590a4
