Snapshot: Tag is a Universal Language
Southern Italy has certainly given the kids space to run
After dinner last week at a restaurant where you picked out your meat from a butcher's counter on entry, and only then sat down to order the rest of your meal, we walked toward the center of the little town nearest us.
I think I ordered ox. There was some later dispute that it might have been horse. I’m choosing to believe ox. It was delicious.
On the way we found a small park with a playground. Our kids had been reunited this week with our neighbor Cole, which has been glorious. Off of the narrow streets and insane drivers, they all immediately started playing tag. There was another boy nearby who was invited to join by virtue of signs and some broken English/Italian. He turned out to be fast and agile, as well as having home-field advantage among the equipment and trees.
A half-hour of darting, leaping, and sprinting later, the kids discovered almost as an afterthought that his name was Luigi. His father works at a food truck nearby and he plays in the park most nights.
As we walked away, Paul said," That's the first friend I've made on this trip." People you can be joyfully exuberant with in a shared endeavor are as good a definition of friendship as any, I suppose.
Reunited!
