I’ll bet you didn’t know that in some places in Italy, the bus will not stop at your bus stop unless you tell the driver to do so; my friends and I, having booked an impromptu girls trip between classes in Spain, didn’t know this either.
Around two bus stops past our rental place, we finally made it out and climbed down the hillside with all of our many bags of groceries, several of which were dropped when Lila slipped, sliding several yards down the grass. We eventually made it back with most of our ingredients, put Hozier on the speaker, and danced around each other as we cooked in the small kitchenette, dodging limbs holding knives, fresh pasta, and glasses of wine.
We couldn’t afford a dinner out in Positano, but we could afford to hop around the bakeries, grocers, and wine shops on our way home.
None of us had ever cooked with such quality fresh ingredients before! Lila took the stove, teaching us how to make vodka sauce as she worked. I took to the small counterspace beside her, demonstrating how to hold a knife and mince garlic. Alaina weaved between the rooms, joining each conversation often enough to keep all of our glasses full. Taylor leaned back in her chair after helping me prepare everything, eyeing the Caprese and garlic bread. As Lila and I finished up in the kitchen, Kat’s laughter could be heard floating between rooms while she searched for more chairs and Aralyn’s soft singing accompanied the quiet clinking of the silverware as she set the table
I remember everything. I remember we ate and drank and conversed for hours. Barefoot on ceramic tile, we danced through the night’s warm breeze. We laughed hard and cried softly, our hearts as full as our stomachs.