ROMANO'S

Lorraine Lebedeva

It was a beautiful day in Rome, Italy. The sky was clear, baby blue and the weather was warm, just hot enough to need a fan on an August day.

My chest tightened when I stepped foot into the Romano's Mansion.

I took in my surroundings, The mansion stood there as if the surrounding nature had embraced it, that the flora flowed within it as much as around it. For the architect had loved the trees so much that there was a mighty oak in the center, centuries old, and the great house had been built around it. The house was welcoming from the open door to the wide hallway. Upon the walls were the photographs of children, so obviously so loved. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with a blend of deep homely browns and the walls were the green of summer gardens meeting a bold white baseboard. The banister was a twirl of a branch, tamed by the carpenter's hand, its grain flowing as water might, in waves of comforting woodland hues. Under the lamp-shine it was nature's art,