Patricia Ombretta Catazola

Patricia Ombretta Catazola is a blind woman with a soft smile.  I meet her in a tiny coffee shop in the small village in Northern Italy where my apartment is located. Within a minute, she reaches out to clasp my hands in hers.  As an American, this feels overly intimate, but I don’t pull away.  She smiles and her unfocused gaze and the way she outlines my fingers with hers tells me she’s blind.  After a moment, she pats my hands and says I have “...piano hands.” I don’t know what that means, but I thank her anyway because she seems happy with her declaration.   

It is my second day in Italy. She had a twin sister who died, a fact she tells me within moments of meeting me, as if it’s part of her very core and it must be known.  “I am a twin.”  And her spine stiffens a little with pride as she smiles.  Rosana was her name.  

After a moment, she says she wants to feel my hair to “see” if it's long.  She laughs when she touches it. I laugh too and she says my laugh is beautiful.  She says she loves laughing and then laughs heartily to demonstrate.  

I run into Patricia a handful of times during my time in Italy. I always sit with her and have coffee.  Each time, she touches my hands, touches my hair, and tells me a bit more about Rosana.  She is easily one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.