I had the most lavish moment last week.
It was literally the shortest of moments - but it left a long mark on me.
I was standing out on Hastings street, waiting for my bus downtown, just after 9 in the morning. As I waited, a familiar face appeared. It was a Grandpa from my girl's school - a Grandpa who takes his twin 13 year old granddaughters to school each morning.
We chatted for a few minutes - I concentrated and focused to understand all of his words as he spoke with a gloriously thick Italian accent. (It sounded like music.)
As we exchanged words, I saw two older men walking toward us on the sidewalk. The Grandpa stopped mid-sentence and walked up to the one man and the two shared a verbal greeting. (If listening to only Grandpa's Italian-peppered English sounded like music, two Italian Grandpa's speaking Italian to each other sounded like a symphony.)
And now the lavish moment. Each man took the other's face in his hands. These older men with calloused hands - worn and weathered from years of hard work. They each held the other's stubble- laden cheeks in their hands tenderly and then kissed the other on both cheeks in a breathtaking moment of glorious affection.
The Italian symphony continued for a moment as I stood reveling in the exchange.
That's Amore, indeed.