I keep feeling like I’m missing something–my ladies have gone–before the sun was even thinking about rolling over. We had Ribollita soup last night for dinner with a tart of red peppers, eggplant, onion, fresh mozzarella and parmesan, and a thinly sliced raw fennel salad with just olive oil and salt. I could only think of eating simple things in the midst of having to say goodbye. Before they leave the airport, I am hoping that they all have one last buttery cornetto with a shot of espresso to imprint Italy into the memory of their tongue. Once the rain, the sun, the hills, the olive oil, wine, roasts and chocolate, and the passion for one moment that slides into the next with nothing to do but talk and love and laugh, seeps in, it can be in forever.