Someone asked Mother Teresa, "How do you practice unconditional love?"
Mother Teresa said, "Go home and love your family. Love means allowing the other person to be themselves."
—Mother Teresa
In Italy, clergy were not all that uncommon. You could even run into one while buying pizza.
But at that moment, the pedestrians on the street had focused their attention on a nun.
Their gazes held surprise and admiration, as though she were a celebrity. Even after passing her by, they kept looking back. Veronica's eyes briefly met those of the passersby, then she lowered her head like a startled mimosa and turned her gaze away.
Whistling at a nun was rude, but those Italian young men still jeered at Veronica. She shot them an irritated glance, only making them happier.
"Idiots," Veronica murmured, though her steps became lighter. On the street corner stood an accordion player performing a romantic tune, soft and lingering, and quite a few people had gathered to listen.
Veronica did not want to join the crowd and walked right past.
"Veronica!?"
She heard Uncle Fabio's voice.
She looked toward the sound and found him among the spectators. He looked her up and down at her nun's habit, his mouth hanging open in astonishment.
"What are you doing here?"
"What is with those clothes?"
They spoke in unison.
The people nearby turned their attention toward them, so Fabio immediately led Veronica away from the crowd and into a less crowded alley.
"What were you thinking?" Fabio asked after pondering for a long while.
"Isn't the restaurant busy?" Veronica evaded the question.
"Answer me."
"I told you I wanted to become a nun."
"Oh, how old were you then? Were you even eight?"
"So because I was young, none of you took me seriously?"
"When I was