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ALESSANDRO

1 year later

Our home backyard was draped in silence, as we listened to the priest's words, blessing our baby girl.

Our little Isabella Paola Moravia, named after my mother and Lorena's grandmother.

Dark hair framed her little face, matching her big brother’s and mine. But it was her eyes that had everyone falling all over themselves. She had her mother’s beautiful eyes.

My wife. I’d never get sick and tired of saying those two words. She cradled our daughter in her arms, her small body leaning against mine.

I studied my wife’s rosy cheeks and dark hair strands flying with the light breeze.

This woman was my beginning, my middle, and my end.

She was my whole life. This family, blood and non-blood, was what this life was about.

“You are staring at me,” she whispered under her breath, so only I could hear it.

“You love when I watch you.”