Land of Dragon

50

Francesca

My father, Riccardo Moretti, knew how to light up a room. When he was home, that is. Most days, he’d be busy with work, but on the odd day he’d have off,

he’d make sure to spend it with my siblings and me.

I was never forgotten when it came to him. The last memory I have of him still sticks with me to this day. I was fourteen at the time.

He was in the kitchen, trying to pour himself a glass of orange juice, but his hands were shaking too much. Riccardo looked years younger than he really was, but at that moment, he seemed to age twenty years.

No one else was in the there at the time, so I approached him, offering to help pour his juice. He gave me a kind smile. “No, Fran. I need to do this. I can’t have you and the rest of the family doing everything for me. I’m still the man of the house. I need to act like it.”

I rested my hand on his, and his hand instantly stopped shaking. “Dad, let me help you.”

After looking at me for a moment, he relented. “All right. Thank you, hone