Che bello

"Ciao, ragazze!" A man calling out from under an awning to, presumably, two or more girls that I can't see, distracts me from my contemplation of the imminent threat of drizzle (will I make it to the school before it starts to rain in earnest? will my hair be completely flattened regardless? why did I not bring my umbrella?) and reminds me where I am.

"Ciao, mio caro!" the owner of the cafe around the corner from my apartment shouts at a young-ish man across the street. His exuberance is infectious and I smile.

I walk through a small crowd gathered outside of the library and the language washes around me in waves and spikes of lively sound. An acquaintance waves at me from his bike. I don't really see him until the last minute, but I'm still smiling to myself. Lucky, that.

"Ciao!" another teacher calls out from her bike, and another smile overlaps with the first when I see her son strapped to a seat in back of her. I love that. I know people in this city. I love that, too.

"Ciao, bellissima!" someone shouts to the woman walking in front of me. She is indeed far better dressed than I am, and her hair falls in careful blond waves that bounce across her shoulders. The thought does nothing to change my quietly gleeful mood, though.