I’d like to think I’m not superstitious, but then something good happens, and I’m afraid I’ll jinx it.
Can I whisper this to you?
We booked tickets to Europe.
There was a killer deal on round-trip flights to Madrid at the end of August. And, while I love Spain, it’s not our final destination this time.
Neither of us have been to Italy, and I have wanted to go since I was a kid, since learning that Venice had streets made of water, since I first saw photos of Pompeii’s ruins frozen in time, since my young fascination with Renaissance art, since seeing Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday.
But now there’s an international flight with our name on it.
We plan to celebrate our 13th anniversary early, take our own Roman holiday, see a boat parade in Venice, stay in the agriturismo of this couple whose podcast we listen to, wander the ruins of Pompeii, and maybe even visit the Florence that is not in Arizona.
13 has always been my lucky number.
Not that I’m superstitious.