Pizza and Fries

Four days ago I sat next to an Empress. I spoke to her about newborn hearing screening, deafness, cochlear implants, doctors, Jordan and separation in five minutes. She was an elegant woman, blonde hair, ice-blue eyes, delicate ankles, red suit, knee-length skirt-amazing legs. One book of one thousand pages would not cover her life, her contribution to the field of cochlear implants and the battles she has fought and continues to win. We sat next to each other on a bench, took a five minute break from the International Workshop on Cochlear Implant Rehabilitation in Varese, Italy and soaked the brilliance of the April sun.

Her eyes were closed, she had bronchitis, she whispered, "Why did you and your husband separate?"

I had no idea how to answer that question, the only thing I was able to utter was, "He is a good man and an excellent father." More silence. More sunshine.
I asked, "Where do you get it from? Your mother or your father?"
I think she was taken aback by my question, not many people ask such things of an Empress. She thought for a second and said, "My father, he was an ambitious man."

We stood up and went back to the congress.

Later that night I started thinking, "Where did I get me from?" A while ago in a post, I answered that I was most like my grandfather. I complained that my sister always told me that I had no identity, that I sounded just like mom or just like dad, and my parents always said the same.

I got my ambitious, determined nature from my mom; my sensitivity, ability to communicate and humility from my dad...and my love of life and family from my grandfather. My grandma taught me how not to cook, but I still haven't mastered exactly how to cook.

Luca taught me the meaning of love...and my kids teach me how to give.

Sofia just gave me a kiss over pizza and fries.