The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany

by Lori Nelson Spielman

You don’t have to die as that woman.

“Love. Forgive. Love again. Forgive again. That, my dear girl, is the circle of love.”

“May God bless and protect you. May he smooth the path that lies before you, and give you the grace and humility to accept both fortune and sorrow. May you be strong as the redwood when troubles arise, and bend like the willow when forgiveness beckons. Above all, may you love joyfully, gratefully, faithfully, in Christ’s name. Amen.”

All I can tell you is that, after eighty years, I realize that love plays many roles. Paramour. Comforter. Protector. Mate. Though Rico is my heart’s only true passion, there’s much to be said for a love that provides deep friendship, or simply companionship, in a world that can sometimes feel like a fisted glove.”

“In the end, life is a simple equation. Each time you love—be it a man or a child, a cat or a horse—you add color to this world. When you fail to love, you erase color.” She smiles. “Love, in any of its forms, is what takes this journey from a bleak black-and-white pencil sketch to a magnificent oil painting.” She touches my cheek. “It’s the sweet fruit that paints the field and wakes our senses. I’m not saying you must be on a constant quest for it, but please, if love comes to you, if you find it within your grasp, promise me you’ll pluck it from the vine and give it a good looking-over, won’t you?”

“One of life’s loveliest moments is witnessing another person’s grace.”