On Mother’s Day, my grown kids told me they had chosen the restaurant and expected me to pay for all twelve of them, just like always.

from Toronto, a nurse from Chicago, and a widower from Boston named Arthur Bell.

Arthur was sixty-six, gentle in manner, and carried a folded map even though he used his phone for directions. During the tour, he noticed Helen lingering over a carved doorway longer than the others.

“First time in Rome?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “First time anywhere just continue reading …