Committed. To finding a way.

Vittorio is sad. Has been. For a long time. I understand why. His dear wife Claudia. Died. A little  over a year ago. Breast cancer. She was in her 40s. Wish I could talk to Vittorio. To buoy his spirits.  But he doesn't speak much English.  About as much as I speak his language. Italian. So there's a language barrier. Which I regret.  Wish I were multi-lingual.  But that won't happen. So I have to find a way around it. Alas, I know how. I have an Italian true love. She can serve as translator. Putting my words into Italian. And putting Vittorio's words into English. My true love is a dream come true. In so many ways. Yes, I know. It would be better. If I learned Italian. So I could speak for myself. Without a go-between. But that won't happen. Takes too long to master another tongue. To become fluent. Maybe if I had started young. It would be a different story. A better result. Therefore, the next best thing is to be practical.  Anyway, my true love knew Claudia.  She was a friend. Turns out, we're having our kitchen remodeled. Here in Sardinia. And one of the workmen happens to be Vittorio.  A skilled bricklayer/mason. I asked Vittorio today. In broken Italian. If he's happy. No, he isn't. He made that clear.  That's a beginning. I want to understand. Vittorio.  I want a dialogue. I have the skills. The words. To help people become happy again.  Now I must get meaningful words. To Vittorio. I'm committed. To finding a way.  --Jim Broede