The Contessa

The letter arrived with a postmark of Venice, Italy and I wondered if it might be from the Contessa.  I was afraid to open it thinking what promise would be inside. 

The Contessa of Campo S. Margherita, Venice

I am transported to Venice at the Campo Santa Margherita sitting at the Margaret Du Camps Cafe with a plate of tramezzini, white bread stuffed with home made mayonnaise, chopped hard boiled egg and mushrooms, with a glass of cold prosecco.  I watched the campo hoping to see the Contessa come out for her noon walk. And there she is coming out with her ill-bred little terrier scampering ahead of her and threatening all the other dogs in the plaza. There she is stately in a two-piece suit, in brilliant blue, a black top hat and now a cane. 

She walks with an outstanding elegance, stopping now and then to talk with a neighbor. She wears a diamond and emerald ring, her hair done to perfection her make up flawless.  Is she really a contessa or just the kept woman of a rich Milano businessman?  There is no mistaking that she is out of this world with grace and stature.  I asked the waitress “Who is that woman?,” and she says, "Oh, she is just the crazy lady in the neighborhood". And this comment is from a young woman with too many face piercing and tattoos on her arms.  The Contessa is from another era.  Will I see her on my net visit to Venice? Will she be wheel chair bound?  Will her little dog be hobbling about an ancient canine in an ancient city? I hope I will see her soon.