my life and its meaning depends on if I am aunt tina’s reincarnate.

Watching Anthony Bourdain in Sicily with a friend turned family is watching the layered connections of each of our stories unfold in divine timing - I know intimately every turn led us here.

Anthony is speaking to me in tongues only I understand - the way he shifts the more he knows - like you, like myself.

He says I’ve been yearning for a home that was never mine - maybe the more I know myself, I know you, inside.

Tina, will I return for you? Is it you who misses me? Misses what you only knew? 

Sicily, your cobblestones are your bones. These bones ache because they hold the lives that lived with you here.

One day, we will meet again in a way Anthony would understand.

I’ve stumbled into your memories - your wicked humor. the juniper berry breeze. the salt that crystallizes the air and the tips of your brittle and breaking brown short hair.

Tina, you see through me like the fish you swore were kaleidoscopes of the sea we hold dear.

I swear - sweetest Tina - I will know you more than I know myself when I return.