mimilicious21_ :
I still remember the first time I went there. I was just a little girl in primary school, small enough to hide inside my own silence. During field trips, when it was time to choose pairs, the other children would quickly turn to someone else. I would stand still and pretend it did not hurt.
But she saw me.
My Italian teacher, with her thick fur coat wrapped tightly around her and her bright red hair glowing against the cold sky, would gently take my hand. Sometimes she would lift me into her arms as if I weighed nothing at all. In that moment, I did not feel unwanted. I felt chosen.
That day at Giardini Giusti, she did not just explain the history of the garden. She walked slowly beside me, telling stories about the statues, the ancient trees, and the hidden paths as if she were sharing something precious only with me. Her voice was soft and patient. For the first time, I was not the girl nobody wanted to stand next to. I was someone worth staying with.
So many years have passed since I last saw her. Life moved forward quietly, without asking if I was ready. Yet every time I drive in front of that garden, something inside my chest tightens. The gates are still there. The silence between the trees feels the same. And suddenly I am small again, holding her hand, listening to her voice.
Some memories never leave. They wait for us in certain places. And every time I pass that garden, I do not just see trees and statues.
I see the first person who made me feel like I belonged.
2026-03-01 23:42:00