So begins the “Roman Holiday” project. Twenty years ago, I was fortunate enough to receive an invitation from my aunt: complete your finals and then fly on over for the week. Literally trading book bag for travel bag, I did just that, with an eventful layover stop in NYC along the way.

Dismissing the time difference, the anxiety of one’s first travels overseas, let alone out of the country, I had the bare minimum of sleep possible. My aunt allowed me time to nap before telling me of a boys’ choir we would see at one of the nearby churches. It was still daylight and I recall a stroll we took through the cloisters.

The idea of finding some place as beautiful as Rome was breathtaking. Seeing the gardens in such meticulous detail was outstanding. Looking at the pillars up close, one could only imagine the story that went with them. The sun was setting, allowing for a new perspective to the artifacts on the wall opposite the garden square.

The choir sounded angelic, even if I knew not what they sang specifically, Italian only having so many similiarities to Spanish. The stained glass within the building illuminated stories well known to those raised on them from childhood on. The holiday was off to a glorious start!