Today Vero and Patrick and I headed out on our own; the better to reconnect. Vero and my other son, Keith, met when he was an exchange student in the late 1980s; when he came home she followed during various summers to spend time with us. It’s hard to believe that was more than twenty years ago.
Vero and I have always been connected; she calls me her “American Mother.” I return the favor and refer to her as my “French daughter.” That’s how strong the bond is. So today we left the others to their own devices to savor time together, to reminisce, and to build on the future.
We headed toward the Vatican, although I’m not sure why. Rain periodically forced used to retreat under umbrellas, but when we could we linked arm in arm. And laughed in French and English. Patrick was patient with our connections, taking photos and being the gentleman.
When we arrived at St. Peter’s there were cameras and journalists and satellites everywhere, all waiting not our arrival but the white smoke from the little chimney near St. Peter’s Basilica that heralded the election of a new Pope. We visited the basilica itself and spent a couple hours there. Then we headed for lunch on the other side of the Tiber River. As we dined, it seems the new Pope was elected.
However we didn’t learn this until later in the evening, too late to return to St. Peter’s Square with hoards of the faithful. Instead we watched Pope Francis’s first address via Italian television. It was a thrilling climax to the day with the successor to Peter, the first Pope, coming to office. Yet for me such ritual was overshadowed by the renewal of long time friendships that also stand the test of time.
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