It was one of those beautiful early Spring days in North Carolina. My boss unexpectedly gave me a day off.

He said, “You’ve been working so hard for the past several weeks. Why don’t you take tomorrow off? You can sleep in, go out to lunch with some of your friends, and forget about work for a few hours. 

I took one look at him, just to be sure he wasn’t pulling my leg. And sure enough, he was serious. “Really, I would love that. I haven’t had any time to myself in a long time, and I know exactly what I’d like to do.”

“Really, what’s that?” Oh, I know, go clothes shopping. I know how you ladies love to shop and buy clothes.”

“While that might be true for some women. It’s not true for me. I like to spend any “extra money” on my garden.”

“Well, whatever stokes your fire, I say. Have a ball and buy all the flowers you want. You only live once.”

“Thanks so much. I have about another hour to finish my report. I’ll email it to you when I’m finished, and I” ‘ll see you on Monday.”

That night, I must have checked the weather report ten times before I went to bed. We get a whole lot of rain in the early Spring here in North Carolina, so I kept my fingers crossed that tomorrow it wouldn’t rain. I also hoped it would rain the next day so that newly planted rose bushes and Day Lilies would get watered in.

I woke up at the crack of dawn the next morning, but to my surprise, it was still dark out. Then I remembered the clocks had been turned back recently. Honestly, I wish we could stop moving time forward and then back again. It takes me so long to adjust to it. Enough already, I say.

I rolled out of bed, gingerly put my legs over the edge of the bed, and headed toward my bathroom. I grabbed my sunblock and applied it liberally to every exposed part of my body. I am as pale as they come, and if I don’t douse myself with sunblock, I will be burnt to a crisp. I’m not exaggerating. Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a little.

And off I went to my backyard to get my gardening tools out of my little tool shed. As I opened the door, I saw something move rapidly across the front of the shed and out the back. I can’t be sure, but I think it might have been some rabbit. I sure as hell hope it isn’t a rat. I don’t mind squirrels, but rabbits love to eat all the vegetables I grow in my raised bed garden. And believe it or not, they are not averse to eating my flowers. The only thing they haven’t touched is my cactus and succulent garden.

I gathered my heeley hoe, my gardening gloves, and some containers to stash the grass and weeds I dug up. I was about ready to start when I heard one of my neighbors yell, “Good morning. I hope you have a great day. Good luck with your garden.” 

It is my next-door neighbor, Piero; he is a nice man and always says hello, but beyond that, he minds his own business. Occasionally, he asks me gardening questions. And I’m more than willing to offer him advice or lend him a hand. He is an elderly man and not completely steady on his feet. Occasionally, he will ask me to come over and give him a hand with his grape vine that grows over his arbor. And I am more than happy to do that. Because eventually, he will turn those beautiful grapes into wine. And he always shares it with me.

I walk over to his fence and ask him, “How are you feeling? How’s life treating you these days?”

“Oh, good, good, the usual aches and pains, but nothing I can’t tolerate. I’ ’m looking forward to seeing your garden this year.”

“ And I’m looking forward to that wonderful wine you make.” Piero laughed and said, “That’s down the road a bit, but I won’t forget you. And if you have any free time, could you come over and help me get my ladder out of the garage and carry it back next to the trellis?”

“Yes, sure, but only if you let me hold the ladder until you’re done. I don’t want anything untoward to happen to you.”

“Yes, yes, you’re afraid I’ll fall and break my neck, but I’ll be fine. I need a steady hand to hold the ladder. It will only take a few minutes.”

“I’ll be right there. Meet me in front of your garage. And I’ll get the ladder out for you.”

I went to the side of my house, opened my gate, closed it behind me, and headed over to Piero’s front yard and garage. I could hear him rustling around inside the garage. The next moment, the garage door opened, and there was Piero—out of breath just from opening the door. I can’t tell you how worried I was about Pierro. He was such a kind and generous man that I couldn’t bear it if something unforeseen happened to him.

“Are you alright, Pierro?”

“Yes, yes, stop you’re worrying. You are like an old mother hen, guarding her eggs.’

“Old mother hen, HUH? Well, that’s a new one. And then we both started laughing. Pierro laughed so hard that he started coughing. I patted him on the back until he caught his breath again. “Ok, let’s go. I’m alright now. Don’t worry so much.”

“Well, Pierro, worrying about the people I love is in my genes.”

“Pierro looked at me, and I saw a tear run down his face. And he wiped it away with the back of his hand. I said, “Here, let me grab the ladder. And before he could try to get it, I picked it up and said, “I’ll meet you out back.”

He met me out back. He must have raced all the way because he was out of breath. “Are you alright, Piero? You look like you can’t breathe.”

“ Ok, don’t start that again, I’m fine.”

I set up the ladder next to the trellis, and we began attaching the vine to it. We worked together, and before you knew it. It was done. Piero stood there smiling from ear to ear. This is one of the reasons I loved Piero, small things made him happy, he never complained. And even better, he had led a highly interesting life. And I loved hearing about it. He had served in the military and had several medals to attest to his courage and fortitude. And the stories he would tell were spellbinding. I can’t express how much I love this old man; the thought of never seeing him again at some time in the future breaks my heart. So, I made every effort to block it from my mind. I call out to him, “Hey Piero, how about coming over for dinner tonight? If it’s nice, we can eat on the back porch. I’m making your favorite spaghetti and meatballs. And I made a cheesecake, your favorite?”

“I say, “ what time, I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Really, that is a sight I would love to see. Be here at 5 o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.”

I saw a grin cross his face from ear to ear. “I’ll be there on the dot of five.”

I smiled at him, waved, and said, “See you later, crocodile.” He laughed like it was the first time I said it to him, but I say it every time I talk to him. I waved and headed back into the house, stirring my sauce pot. I can’t help but think how lucky I was to move next to this gentle old man. He’s the father and grandfather I never had.

At five o’clock on the dot, I hear my doorbell ring. I look out the window, and sure enough, it is Piero looking back at me with a big smile on his face, and he is rubbing his tummy in preparation for the big pot of spaghetti and sauce. He says, Buonasera, which means Good Evening in Italian. I only know Buonasera and Bon Journo, which means Good Day. He arrives with a big smile and a bottle of his wine. “Come in, come in, no formalities between you and me after all this time, Piero. You are so, so welcome in my home.”

The meal was good; even if I say so myself, the sauce was perfection. And the spaghetti was cooked just long enough, but not too much. “Don’t forget to eat your veggies, Pierro. You can have the cheesecake for dessert if you eat them all.” A big smile crossed his face. And then he said, Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Rudy, he made wine in the old country? I worked there for many years when I was quite young.”

I had heard this story many, many times over the years. But I said, “Oh, please continue. I love hearing about your Uncle and Aunt and the vineyard.”

And so he began the litany of his whole life, growing up working in his Uncle’s vineyard, making the wine. It didn’t matter how many times I heard this story, and I loved hearing it. The love that his family had for one another was heartwarming. I couldn’t hear it enough. I grew up in Foster Homes from my entire childhood through my eighteenth birthday. And that is when I was released from the states care to the big, cold world. One which I had no clue how to navigate. I hadn’t even finished high school. When I found myself on my own, with no job, no money, and no place to go. I ended up working at fast food restaurants. One of my coworkers offered to let me share his room if I would pay half the rent. And then took some night classes at the local county college. I learn how to use computers. It turned out that I had a natural gift for programming, which turned my life around.

I began to become well-known in the field and was offered one promotion after another. And here I am, living the good life. I own my home, which I paid off in five years. I have a new car. In fact, I have the means to “buy” myself anything I need or want. But I always wanted a family that loved me as far back as I can remember.

And then one day when I was in the main office where I worked a young woman knocked on my office door. I signaled for her to come in as I was talking on the phone to a client. I glanced over at her; she looked like a breath of fresh air. I couldn’t stop glazing over at her. Finally, I was able to get off the phone. I looked over at her and said, “Can I help you? And she said, “Well, actually, I’m here to help you. I’m your new assistant. My name is Angela DeMateo if Could you be so kind as to tell me what you need to be done ASAP? And what can wait? I will get down to business. “

Without realizing it, I kept staring at her, unsure as to what I should do or say. And then she cleared her throat and said, “Perhaps I should begin by familiarizing myself with your most important clients. And I will go from there. I pointed to my filing cabinet and said, “I suggest you begin with the McFarland file. They are my biggest client. Once you have a grasp of what we need to move forward with from there we can talk again, If you have any questions at all, please feel free to ask. Here is my cell phone number if you ever need to contact me when I’m out with a client or working at home.”

Angela nodded her head and said, “I understand. I will begin now, if at anytime you need my assistance I will be availale. And that was the last time I saw her that morning until Angela buzzed me and asked if she could order lunch for me. And if so, what did I want? I told her anything but fast food and bad memories attached to fast food restaurants. She said, “ I understand. And I will be back ASAP with your lunch.” And she was in a shake of a lamb’s tail. The lunch was delicious. The next time I saw her was about thirty-five minutes before closing time. She came into my office and handed me what she said were the files that she had completed. I quickly looked them over. And it appeared as if she could fulfill any task set before her.

I said, “Angela, I think it is safe for you to leave now. I’m caught up on my clients. Thanks to you. I will see you no later than 9 a.m. tomorrow. Have a good evening, Angela.” She looked at me and said, “I hope you have a good evening. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. You have my cell number if you need to contact me for any reason.”

And so it began. Over time, I realized that not only did I become reliant on Angela at work, but I knew that my feelings toward her ran deeper. So, although I knew it was a bad idea, I asked Angela if she would be interested in going out to dinner with me. At first, she hesitated, and I just stood my ground, and finally, she said, “Yes, I would like to have dinner with you.”

And that evening marked a beginning of my life, it was clear to everyone but me that I was in love with Angela, and life without her would be a sad life indeed. We began seeing her on a regular basis. We became good friends, and then it became more. She hadn’t mentioned any boyfriends. I asked her, “Could you please tell me the length and breadth of your feelings for me? Please be honest. Please tell me if you’re not interested in a long-term relationship.”

Angela closed the door behind her, walked over to me, put her arms around me, and kissed me. I took that as a firm “yes” that she was interested in. And friend, that was the beginning of my new life with a woman I loved, and I am getting married. And the rest, my friends, is history. Finding true love and happiness with a woman who loved me. And if that isn’t a happy ending to a fairytale, I don’t know what is.

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