He wrapped his arm around me, kissed my cheek and whispered in the silence, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
And I know he’s right but it never makes it easier. Because no, nothing worth having, or owning, or loving, or bragging about, or dreaming about, or waking up for, or treasuring, or lying awake at night and worrying about losing is ever bred in a day.
But one day was all it took, one simple transition in my Lilly Pulitzer calendar, for my Rome to vanish and leave in its ashes the foundation for a new one. And foundations should be exciting; after all, you can build anything on them.
But building takes time, and time passes slowly when you’re staring at a shade of grey.
