She handed me a piece of bread and I buttered it. She didn’t take the butter, but poured a bit of olive oil onto a small plate, sprinkled some chees... in it, and dipped her bread. We both added cheese to our pasta.“What’s with the olive oil and cheese?”“It’s the Italian way. You should try it sometime.”She picked up her wine glass and held it up, “To us. To whatever this day brings.”“«Salute»!” I answered.She smiled, “Grandfather is rubbing off on you.”We ate in silence, the candle burning. Not long after I remember having a recurring dream. A nightmare really. Where we were driving on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and our car was suddenly sinking in the water. I had the new seatbelt on and it would not snap open no matter how much I tried.I knew it was a dream since the bridge in question was hundreds of miles south of us at this time. It was still scary. I know none of us used those contraptions for many years to come.Firecrackers. You have to love that the South is keen on. More

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