How Fast Time Flies

The older I get, the more it seems that time flies faster than Superman on his very best day. One year ago this week, my mom and I left for Paris - and three months from today, we will be leaving for Florence. Last year's trip was the fulfillment of a dream come true for me and this year, it's just icing on the cake. A place in the world that I love with the woman I love more than anything else.

Ninety days out and she's more prepared than last year. My brother took her shopping and she has luggage. At least this year, we won't be scrambling to find her a set.

When I get to Boston, I think I may even be in for a food treat (remember, we're Italian - food is what we do). When I was a kid, my mom would always make stuffed artichokes and they were the most delicious things you have ever tasted. Steamed on top of the stove and overflowing with breadcrumbs, I would look forward to dinner more than when she made her chicken cutlets. And when we had both at the same meal, it was just heaven. Shopping yesterday, I saw the huge vegetables in the produce aisle. They made me instantly hungry and, right there in the supermarket, I was transported back to my childhood. When I mentioned them, my mom said she'd make them the night I arrive home.

It's funny how the smallest of things can remind you of your childhood - and this trip is, in a way, my mother's reward for all those meals, all those times she soothed my fears and for everything else that's just too numerous to mention. I don't mean to rush the seasons, but is it summer yet?