Untimely Frost ~ WattPride 2023 ~

{9}

I inherited my family's vineyard after both my parents passed. Now, sitting in our home which I renovated to suit my and my wife's taste, I raise a glass from time to time to my youth.

My piano remains where it did though I no longer have time to play or create music as I used to. I lost two loves long ago but when I look to my wife and eight-year-old daughter, I remember I gained two new ones.

There is a charity set up in Nikola's name, I split the earnings as he wished yet whatever money I make goes straight into my child's trust fund. I want her to live her life as she sees fit and money will help her do that.

There's a gentle wind outside. I close my eyes for a moment and listen to what it has to say. "It's ok." In time, it got better. I began to live again. I loved again.  But are we ever ok after losing those we love? What are we once we gain new loves? I feel bittersweet. I feel like I should be praising God and cursing Him at the same time. I draw in a breath and breath with the wind. We become one. Just for a moment. 

"Daddy, will you play for us?" My daughter tugs at my sleeve. I look at her lovely face then my gaze trickled to the tiny scar above her collarbone. Research has come a long way in the twenty years since Nikola passed. They caught her cancer in time. A once five percent chance became fifty. I caress my child's face and she giggles. She knows she is my little angel. My miracle.

"Which song do you want, Nicoletta?" I rise and head to the piano.

I sit on the bench and catch sight of my wife peeking in through the kitchen. She smiles. She is drying her hands with a tea towel. I smell a pie baking. Apple - my favourite. Matilda knows she is the second person I ever really loved. Whenever she catches me staring into space, she quietly walks to me and hugs me close. "Love is beautiful," she reminds me. And, it is.

Nicoletta is snuggled in a warm pink sweater with a unicorn on the front, matching slippers are on her feet and I tease her and tell her she looks like Bigfoot. 

She sits next to me and momentarily touches her cheek to my arm. Her feet nearly reach the floor. Her fingers ghost over the keys. "Play that song you like so much. That one your friend loved so." Then she whispers, "The one I was named after."

I nod and ready my fingers over the keys. "I love you, child," I remind her.

Above the piano, in a silver frame on the wall, is an unfinished composition. Nikola's letter rests tucked behind it, away from others' eyes. But I know it's there.

The wind whispers the promise of spring and I long to feel the hot Italian sun on my skin. I am tired of the cold. Tired of the frost that came too soon.

I touch my fingers to the keys and begin.