His Son Stopped Calling Him Papa
On the first anniversary of the day Luca and I left New York, I placed the final decree in an old file with Bianca's photographs, the stable pass, the physician's bill, and the black notebook titled Lessons in Letting Go.
I did not keep them because I missed the past. I kept them to remember that Luca and I had not simply escaped a broken marriage.
I had carried us out of it with my own hands.
Luca rarely spoke of Matteo after that. When his father visited, Luca received him courteously, accepted what properly belonged to him, and returned to his own life.
One evening, while we were tending the strawberry plants, Luca asked, "Mom, may I still love other people when I grow up?" The question t