What I remember most from that afternoon are the purple and yellow iridescences of the sky, as if the entire firmament had lit up to take part in our family celebration. The sunlight sparkled on the two-day-old snow on the curb, as if someone had paved the road with diamonds. I think I remember everything from that day. Running home on the sidewalks with the half-melted snow from the weekend work at the Clean Bee dry cleaner. The smell of dry cleaning and the stiffness on my clothes and skin. I remember the blood pounding in my temples as I ran, and the feeling that if I raised my hands high, I would take off, I would fly from the crowded sidewalks of Old Village and glide freely through the colors pulsating in the sky.

It was such a happy day today for the Palmieri family. I remember thinking of my grandparents, Mary and Mario, such a perfect couple that even their names seemed to match. They had come to the United States from Italy when they were about twenty and worked hard to start a new life and raise their family here. What a pity they hadn’t lived to see this day, the proudest moment of my father, Angelo Palmieri, who was their eldest son. The stableman who became the owner of his own riding horse stable. We were all so proud.