A Narrative Essay on the Breakfast with My Grandmother in Italy Breakfast with a Side of Eye Cream With heavy arms perched high above my head, I savored the precious flow of cold water streaming down my sweaty back. At my grandmothers house, as in most Roman households in the summer, the shower is a welcome sanctuary from the unrelenting Italian sun, and it can become competitive territory to stake out in a busy home. The bittersweet smell of coffee wafted into the bathroom and invited me to join my grandmother for my favorite meal. Today was my first morning in Italy, and I knew that breakfast would mean catching my grandmother up on an entire year’s worth of material. After a sip of coffee, I hooked my laptop up, and stood next to my presentation, just as I had done a few Saturdays ago in my International Fashion Marketing class at FIT. When I saw my title slide, all of the butterflies that I thought I had left in New York suddenly came fluttering into my stomach.
