I feel like we should go to Italy that weekend.” It had become a small tradition in my home to get the hell out of Dodge after important or stressful medical appointments—a welcome distraction from the interminable waiting for results delivered bloodlessly by a no-nonsense nurse. And so, in advance of another tedious interlude that April, I stuck my head unceremoniously into my husband’s office and announced my plan.

All our previous jaunts to cool our heels had kept us close to home: a weekend upstate, a few days out east. This time, I decided that we needed to stray farther afield, but Owen wasn’t fully convinced. He’d never been to Italy before, and I think my slapdash plan to zip us over to Lake Como had him slightly nonplussed.