Dear Rome,
Save me a little December.
Not the perfectly arranged, snow-covered version from the movies. The real one. The one with cool mornings, golden afternoons, and streets that never seem particularly interested in rushing.
The one where you wrap your scarf a little tighter and step inside a warm bar for an espresso. Where old stone buildings catch the winter light and every little piazza feels like an invitation to stay.
Save me the sound of cups meeting saucers. The smell of fresh cornetti. The moment you stand at a café counter with something warm in your hands and nowhere important to be.
Save me the narrow streets of Trastevere. The quiet paths through the Orange Garden. The Tiber on a gray afternoon, when the bridges and old buildings look like they belong in another century.
And the Christmas lights. The great tree in Piazza Venezia glowing against the Vittoriano. The little streets dressed for December. Not because everything needs to sparkle, but because Rome knows how to make an ordinary evening feel special.
Save me one long walk with no destination. One gelato I definitely didn't need. One quiet moment on a stone bench. And that strange, beautiful feeling of being somewhere far from home and somehow exactly where I want to be.
I don't need the perfect Rome. I don't need every monument, every museum, or every famous view. Just a few hours. A warm espresso. A street worth remembering.
So, dear Rome, keep a little December for me.
I'll bring the scarf. You bring the feeling.
Love,Someone who still thinks about you when the piazzas light up.
