Amore
Frank Sinatra music serenaded the crowd at the Italian Festival. Green, white and red flags adorned every lamp post. The smell of tomato sauce wafted irresistibly through the air as cooks prepared countless Italian dishes. As Maria and I moved down the street, a group of girls wearing white shirts with a blue vest, and red skirts danced the tarantella as an old man wearing a black hat played a harpsicord.
I decided to order a slice of pepperoni pizza. When they put it on a white, paper plate the mozzarella cheese dripped over the sides. I took a bite, and my mouth popped with flavor. Cheese, marinara sauce, garlic, pepperoni, and basil blended in a perfect symphony.
After I finished the pizza, I took Maria’s hand, and we proceeded to the main stage. On the stage, a beautiful woman wearing a green and red dress with a white sash, identifying her as the festival queen, officially opened the ceremony. She made some grateful remarks and welcomed everyone. Then a young man started to sing Volare with a smooth baritone voice. Some couples took to the front of the stage to slow dance. My girlfriend pointed to an older couple dancing to the side. Their steps were choppy and shuffled, but their love for one another was obvious.
We moved on from the crowd, making our way down a brick-covered path that led to a gazebo. Along the way, we picked up ice cream cones to cool us down from the heat. I got pistachio, and she got chocolate. I put my hand in my right pocket and began rotating the velvety black box in my hands. Suddenly, my mind became cluttered with doubt. Would Maria and I become just like the old couple we observed or something else?
Labor Day signaled the end of summer and the beginning of fall. When we reached the gazebo, I went to step-up on the platform, but my foot caught the top of the step, causing me to stumble, causing me to drop the top of my ice cream. Maria giggled and attempted to wipe the ice cream off my arm with her napkin.
“I’m such a klutz.”
“You’re certainly entertaining.”
I gave her an impish smile. The white gazebo set on a cliff jutting out into the lake. Because it was the last day of summer, Watoga Lake was crammed full of boats of all kinds. Maria and I watched the sailboats and people water skiing. I placed my hand in my pocket and tumbled the ring box over and over in my hand, looking for just the right moment. Now my insides were dancing the tarantella. I pointed at a boat, causing her to look away from me. While she was distracted, I knelt on a knee beside her, waiting for her to turn back around.
“Maria, would you be my wife?” I presented the diamond ring.
Maria put her hands to her face, bounced twice on her toes, before she knelt down and kissed me.
