Dreaming of Olivia
Introduction
December 18, 2002
It has been two months since my trip to Las Vegas.
I would like to tell this story.
I would like to tell my own story.
I would like to entrust these blank pages with the emotions of a dream that took twenty-four years to come true.
Sometimes it still feels impossible to believe that it really happened.
For twenty-four years I listened to her voice through records, tapes, and CDs.
For twenty-four years I imagined what it would be like to see her live, to hear her sing, to look into her eyes.
Then, in October 2002, that dream became reality.
This is the story of my journey to Las Vegas.
Preface
There are dreams that are born in silence.
They do not arrive suddenly.
They grow slowly, year after year, accompanying you as life unfolds.
For me, one of those dreams had a voice.
The voice of Olivia Newton-John.
For a long time, Olivia was a constant presence in my life.
Through her songs, her positive energy, and that special way she had of bringing comfort even during difficult times.
As happened to millions of people around the world, her music was with me through both the happy days and the more challenging ones.
What I never imagined was that one day I would board a plane, cross an ocean, and meet her.
And I certainly never imagined that this journey would become much more than an encounter with an artist.
This is the story of two journeys.
The first, in October 2002, began with a dream that seemed impossible.
The second, in August 2003, was a return to a place that had already come to hold a piece of my heart.
But it would be limiting to say that this book is only about Las Vegas or Olivia.
It is about the people who made all of this possible.
About friendships that began almost by chance and became precious.
About extraordinary travel companions.
About nurses who, over time, became my Fairies with True Hearts.
About people who believed in me when I sometimes struggled to believe that this dream could ever come true.
It is about Antonella, who never gave up.
About Graziella.
About Eda.
About Robin.
And about many other friends who, in different ways, left their mark on this story.
Because no meaningful dream is ever truly achieved alone.
Reading these memories again today, after so many years, I realize that what I carry in my heart is not only the concerts, the photographs, or the autographs.
It is the glances.
The laughter.
The shared emotions.
The people I met along the way.
Perhaps that is the real reason I decided to tell this story.
Not to preserve the memory of a celebrity.
But to remember that, sometimes, a dream can become the starting point for something far greater.
A journey.
A friendship.
A bond that continues through time.
And so, whenever I think back to Las Vegas, I do not see only the lights of the city or the stage of a theatre.
I see the faces of the people who walked beside me.
And I still hear that voice that, years later, during an unexpected phone call, simply said:
“Hello Mariateresa, how are you?”
And every time, I smile.
Because that is where the true heart of this story lives.
Toybel Mariateresa
Chapter 1 – The Beginning
It all began in 1978.
I was twelve years old when, on a bright spring day, I went to the cinema with a few friends.
For me, it felt like a little adventure.
We took the bus to Valdagno and, for the first time, I was going out without my parents or my brothers. Suddenly, I felt grown up, as if that short journey were opening a door to the adult world.
At the time, there was a movie everyone was talking about.
A movie that was driving teenagers all over the world crazy.
It was called Grease.
The undisputed idol was John Travolta. For many teenage girls of that era, he was a true legend.
I still remember the excitement I felt when I walked into the theatre.
It seemed enormous.
Maybe it really was.
Or perhaps I was simply so young that everything looked bigger than life.
The lights dimmed.
The voices faded away.
On the giant screen appeared the famous animated opening sequence, followed shortly by a sunlit beach.
That was when I first saw John Travolta.
And Olivia Newton-John.
I could never have imagined that the blonde-haired woman who appeared before my eyes in that small-town cinema would accompany me through much of my life.
I could never have known that her voice would be with me for decades.
That her songs would carry me through happy moments and difficult ones alike.
And above all, I could never have imagined that twenty-four years later I would cross an ocean to meet her.
But that is another story.
And it all began that day.
In a movie theatre.
In 1978.
Chapter 2 – The Help
There are people who enter our lives without ever knowing it.
They do not know our names.
They do not know what we are going through.
They cannot even imagine how important they are to us.
And yet, they leave us with something that stays with us forever.
For me, Olivia was one of those people.
Without knowing it, she was there during both the happiest moments of my life and the most difficult ones.
Without knowing it, she gave me hope through her songs.
Without knowing it, a smile captured in a photograph managed more than once to brighten days that seemed to have lost all their light.
When I was twenty years old, my life changed suddenly.
From one day to the next, I found myself unable to walk.
I still remember the long days spent within the walls of the hospital.
The fear.
The anger.
The uncertainty.
The feeling that the future I had always taken for granted had suddenly disappeared.
I was no longer the person I had been.
I had to reinvent myself.
I had to learn how to live with a body I no longer recognized.
I had to find the strength to look ahead when everything seemed to have come to a standstill.
Day after day, I fought for my life.
Day after day, I thanked Heaven for allowing me to see another sunrise and another sunset.
Even today, I find it difficult to truly talk about that period.
Some wounds run so deep that words can never fully describe them.
But during those days, there was a voice that stayed with me.
Her voice.
Her songs found their way into my hospital room and, for a few precious minutes, carried me somewhere else.
Beyond the fear.
Beyond the pain.
Beyond that window through which it felt as though I were watching life continue without me.
They helped me believe that, somehow, a future still existed.
That my life was not over.
That, despite everything, there was still something waiting for me.
Perhaps that is why, year after year, the desire to meet her continued to grow within me.
It was not simply admiration.
It was not only a passion for a singer.
It was not even the dream of a fan.
It was the desire to look into her eyes and say a word I had carried in my heart for a very long time.
Thank you.
Chapter 3 – Dreams Never Die, People Do
Dreams never die.
They can be set aside.
They can be postponed.
Sometimes they may even seem impossible.
But they continue to live within us.
For years, my dream had always been the same: to attend an Olivia Newton-John concert.
I wanted to hear her sing live.
I wanted to look into her eyes.
I wanted the chance to say thank you.
Not for any particular song.
But for everything she had unknowingly represented in my life.
In 2001, that dream finally seemed within reach.
Together with Antonella, a dear friend and companion in many Olivia-related adventures, we began seriously discussing the possibility of traveling to the United States.
After months of waiting, the news we had hoped for finally arrived.
Two concerts in Atlantic City.
September 21 and 22, 2001.
It was happening.
For the first time, the dream had a date.
We began planning every detail of the trip.
Between challenges, phone calls, travel quotes, and endless organizing, everything was slowly coming together.
I still remember the excitement of those days.
At last.
After so many years.
I was finally going to make it.
Then the unthinkable happened.
On September 11, 2001, the world stopped.
Images of the airplanes striking the Twin Towers entered all of our homes.
Thousands of people lost their lives.
Even today, it is difficult to find the right words to describe that tragedy.
I remember the shock.
The disbelief.
The feeling of witnessing something unreal.
But it was real.
Terribly real.
That day, it was not only our travel plans that died.
Thousands of people died.
Families lost sons, daughters, parents, brothers, sisters, and friends.
Faced with a tragedy of such magnitude, the disappointment of missing a concert suddenly seemed very small.
In a matter of minutes, countless lives changed.
Among them, our journey.
Atlantic City was no longer a possible destination.
The dream that had seemed so close suddenly vanished.
I felt empty.
It was not simply the disappointment of a cancelled trip.
It was the feeling of watching something I had pursued for years slip through my fingers.
For a while, I even stopped talking about it.
Not because I had stopped believing.
But because it hurt too much to think about something I had come so close to reaching, only to lose it.
And yet, despite everything, the dream did not die.
It remained there.
Quietly.
Waiting.
Like a small flame that continues to burn even when it seems almost extinguished.
Sometimes life closes a door.
Not out of cruelty.
Not because fate is against us.
Simply because the right moment has not arrived yet.
At the time, I could not have known that.
I thought I had lost my chance.
I thought there might never be another one.
I was wrong.
The dream was simply waiting.
And while I was trying to accept its loss, somewhere in the Nevada desert, a city filled with lights was unknowingly preparing my future.
I did not know it yet.
But Las Vegas was waiting for me.
Chapter 4 – Trying Again
So, what happens now?
After the disappointment of 2001, what do you do?
You start dreaming again.
Some time passed.
Then came 2002, bringing with it new dates for Olivia’s tour.
There were many cities, scattered across different states and often far apart from one another.
Planning the trip did not seem easy.
One day, while reading the news published by Only Olivia, the international fan club, I found exactly what I had been hoping for.
Two dates in Las Vegas.
October 4 and 5, 2002.
I read those lines several times to make sure I had not misunderstood.
Then I felt something come back to life inside me.
All the excitement I had tried to set aside after Atlantic City suddenly returned.
I immediately began talking things over with Antonella and Robin.
Robin had experienced the same disappointment the previous year.
He too had planned to travel to Atlantic City and had been forced to cancel after the September 11 attacks.
Perhaps that was exactly why none of us felt ready to give up.
This time, we really wanted to make it happen.
We started evaluating costs, flights, hotels, and possible itineraries.
As always, Robin took care of much of the practical planning.
He analyzed every detail.
Compared different options.
Checked prices, connections, and alternative solutions.
Sometimes I had the impression that he knew the schedules of American airports better than those in Italy.
For a while, he even considered Tampa as a possible destination.
I still remember a phone call with Antonella.
“Hi, beautiful. What do you think about Tampa?”
A few seconds of silence followed.
Then came the answer.
“Not a chance!”
“Why not?”
“What are we supposed to do in a city with the same name as a brand of sanitary pads?”
I burst out laughing.
I had never thought of that.
But the damage was done.
The harder I tried to imagine a romantic and adventurous trip to the United States, the more I kept picturing a box of sanitary pads.
From that moment on, Tampa had no chance at all.
Las Vegas won without discussion.
And perhaps it was meant to be.
By then, it was no longer just a matter of choosing a city.
It was about giving a second chance to a dream that had seemed lost the year before.
I had no idea how many challenges still lay ahead.
I had no idea how many people would help make that journey possible.
I had no idea that the hardest part was still to come.
But one thing was certain.
For the second time, we were trying to cross an ocean.
And this time, none of us had any intention of giving up.
Chapter 5 – The Preparations
With the destination chosen, there was still one major problem to solve.
Mine.
Who would travel with me?
Planning an intercontinental trip can be complicated for anyone.
For me, it was even more so.
I needed someone willing to face with me all the challenges of the journey, the transfers, the airports, and my disability.
So I started asking around.
The answer was almost always the same.
No.
My husband, Mauri, was afraid of flying.
Relatives and acquaintances were not particularly enthusiastic about the idea either.
Between the fear of airplanes and the fear of being in a foreign country, one after another, they declined.
As the days passed, I began to think that the trip would fall through once again.
Then I remembered someone.
Graziella.
Some time earlier, she had told me that, if necessary, she would accompany me.
So I gathered my courage and called her.
“Hi Graziella, it’s Mariateresa.”
“Hi! How are you?”
“Fine. Listen… do you remember when I told you about the possibility of going to America?”
“Of course I remember.”
“And do you remember saying that, if I needed someone, you would come with me?”
“Yes…”
“Well, the time has come. Olivia has two concerts in Las Vegas. Will you come with me?”
There was a brief silence.
Then came the reply.
“My goodness… all the way over there? Isn’t she performing somewhere a little closer? Anyway, give me a few days to think about it.”
I didn’t push.
I knew it was a big request.
But I also knew how important that trip was to me.
A few days passed.
Then the phone rang.
“Hello, it’s Graziella.”
“Hi!”
“I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming with you.”
For a few seconds, I was speechless.
I was afraid I had misunderstood.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“You do realize there’s no backing out now!”
She burst out laughing.
“Don’t worry. We’re going.”
That was the moment when the trip stopped being a dream.
It was becoming reality.
Many years later, I would include Graziella among my Fairies with True Hearts.
At the time, she was simply a nurse who believed in me and had decided to accompany me to the other side of the world.
Today, I know she was doing much more than that.
She was helping me make a dream come true.
Or perhaps she was already a fairy, and I just hadn’t noticed yet.
Meanwhile, Antonella decided to come as well.
The group was complete.
Three devoted Olivia fans were ready to leave for Las Vegas.
Antonella and I spent hours imagining what it would be like to meet “The Madonna,” as I jokingly called Olivia.
It may sound like an exaggerated nickname, but it began almost as a joke and somehow stayed in my heart.
Whenever I told people that I wanted to cross the world to thank someone who had helped me through the hardest moments of my life, they often asked:
“Are you going to Lourdes?”
So I started replying with a laugh that my pilgrimage was a different one.
I wasn’t going to Lourdes.
I was going to Las Vegas.
I simply wanted to hear Olivia sing.
To look into her eyes.
And to say thank you.
Meanwhile, Robin was studying every possible strategy to find a way to meet her.
We exchanged ideas, theories, and plans.
To be honest, my ideas were often a little crazy.
But by then, enthusiasm had completely taken over.
As the days passed, departure drew closer.
And the closer it came, the more my fears grew.
Perhaps because the year before I had seen my dream disappear only days before it was supposed to come true.
At night, I found myself imagining the most absurd scenarios.
What if burglars break in and steal my passport?
What if I have an accident?
What if Graziella breaks a leg?
What if Olivia gets sick and cancels the final concerts?
My imagination seemed determined to invent every possible catastrophe.
But despite everything, the journey was now close.
The tickets were ready.
The suitcases were waiting.
And for the first time in twenty-four years, Las Vegas was no longer just a dream.
It was a destination.
Chapter 6 – The Waiting
As the days passed, the departure date drew closer and closer.
And the closer it came, the more anxious I became.
I had waited for this moment for years, and perhaps that was exactly why I was afraid that something would go wrong.
The year before, I had watched my dream disappear only days before I was supposed to leave.
For that reason, my imagination never stopped working.
At night, I found myself thinking about the most absurd situations.
What if burglars break into my house and steal my passport?
How would I get a new one in time?
What if I have an accident?
What if Graziella breaks a leg?
What if Olivia gets sick and cannot make it to the final dates of the tour?
Every evening, my mind invented a new catastrophe.
But there was another worry that would not leave me alone.
Meeting Olivia.
Or rather…
actually managing to meet her.
The news coming from the fan club was not encouraging.
That year, they would not be distributing the passes that had allowed some members to meet her in the past.
It seemed as if every door was closing.
Only one possibility remained.
Writing to management.
So I began.
One fax.
Two faxes.
Five faxes.
Ten faxes.
Twenty faxes.
Eventually, I lost count.
I think I sent nearly thirty of them.
Each time, I told my story.
Each time, I explained why that trip was so important to me.
Each time, I hoped that someone would read it.
I constantly checked to see whether a reply had arrived.
Every day.
Every evening.
With the same hope.
And the same disappointment.
Because the reply never came.
The Italian trio could not find a solution.
Robin studied every possible strategy.
I continued imagining unlikely scenarios.
And Antonella, the only one among us who had already met Olivia in previous years, tried to bring us back down to earth.
“Keep your feet on the ground.”
Wise advice.
The only problem was that I was doing exactly the opposite.
By then, my imagination was moving faster than the airplane that would take me to Las Vegas.
I imagined myself standing in front of Olivia.
I imagined talking to her.
I imagined finally being able to thank her.
Sometimes my fantasies became so ridiculous that I would laugh out loud by myself.
One of the most memorable involved a pair of handcuffs.
I imagined meeting her, shaking her hand and…
CLICK!
One handcuff on her wrist and one on mine.
Naturally, in my imagination, her reactions changed every time.
Sometimes she laughed.
Sometimes she got angry.
Sometimes she called security.
Other times she looked at me and thought:
“This woman is completely crazy.”
And honestly, she probably would not have been entirely wrong.
Despite everything, those fantasies kept me company.
They were the easiest way to give shape to a desire that had lived inside me for twenty-four years.
Meanwhile, the days continued to pass.
October was now just around the corner.
The tickets were ready.
The reservations confirmed.
The suitcases almost packed.
Everything had been organized down to the smallest detail.
Only one thing remained.
To leave.
October 3rd was approaching.
And for the first time in many years, my dream truly seemed within reach.
Chapter 7 – Departurea
At 3:30 in the morning on October 3rd, the telephone rang.
It was my mother.
She had barely slept, worried that the alarm clock might not go off.
With her usual concern, she called to make sure I was already awake.
A quick breakfast, and then it was time to leave.
Antonella and I set off wearing our leather jackets.
Graziella was waiting for us in Valdagno, ready for this adventure on the other side of the world.
After about three hours on the road and a stop for breakfast, we arrived at Milan Malpensa Airport.
It was my first time there.
I still remember my sense of amazement.
It seemed enormous.
An entire world contained within a single building.
Following Antonella’s advice, we headed straight to the check-in desk.
Fortunately, we did.
Because the first problems were not long in coming.
Despite all the information that had been provided to the travel agency and the airline, it turned out that my request for assistance had not been properly recorded.
Cristina, the travel agent who had organized the trip, had made countless phone calls to avoid any inconvenience.
We had even contacted the airline directly the evening before to confirm everything.
Yet at the check-in counter, no one seemed to know that I was traveling in a wheelchair.
For a few minutes, I was genuinely afraid that I would not be allowed to leave.
It seemed impossible.
I had waited twenty-four years for that moment.
It could not end like this.
Fortunately, Antonella remained calm and managed to sort everything out.
She also made sure that my assistance request was correctly noted for the connecting flight from Atlanta to Las Vegas.
Meanwhile, Robin arrived as well.
We greeted each other quickly and then returned to discussing the final details with the airport staff.
At last, eleven o’clock came, and it was time to board.
My first flight.
Stepping onto the airplane felt strange.
In some ways, it seemed like getting onto a very large bus.
In other ways, it felt like the beginning of something completely new.
I was seated between Graziella and Antonella.
Robin was a few rows behind us.
As the aircraft began to move, I felt my heart race.
“Oh, my goodness…”
I murmured.
Then came takeoff.
“Oh, my goodness…”
I repeated.
Finally, I added a sentence that made everyone smile.
“May God’s will be done.”
To be honest, I had imagined it would be much worse.
I wasn’t afraid.
I didn’t experience any particular discomfort.
The excitement was so overwhelming that it left little room for anything else.
One of the things that surprised me most was the flight crew.
Influenced by movies and advertisements, I had expected something quite different.
Instead, I found people who were kind, professional, and far removed from the stereotypes I had in mind.
It was one of the many small discoveries of that journey.
After a few hours, it was time to face one of the things that worried me most: using the restroom during the flight.
Antonella called a flight attendant, who arrived with a special narrow wheelchair designed to move through the airplane aisle.
When I saw it, I felt a moment of discouragement.
It looked tiny.
With Graziella’s help, I managed to transfer into it and make my way to the restroom.
It was not easy.
The plane was passing through an area of turbulence, and everything seemed more complicated.
I remember that feeling of vulnerability very clearly.
In moments like that, my disability seemed heavier than usual.
I felt exposed.
I felt as though everyone was watching me.
But I kept repeating the same sentence to myself.
To see Olivia, I’ll do this and more.
It became my mantra.
It helped me overcome the discomfort.
It helped me endure the fatigue.
It reminded me why I was there.
And above all, it reminded me that the next day I would finally see Olivia Newton-John.
That thought alone was enough to make everything feel lighter.
After many hours of flying, the moment of landing finally arrived.
I remember almost nothing about the descent.
Probably because excitement had completely taken over by then.
When we arrived in Atlanta and cleared customs, a sudden realization washed over me.
I stopped for a moment.
Looked around.
And smiled.
I was really in America.
Chapter 8 – Americaaaaaaa!
America.
At last.
After so many hours of travel, so many fears, and so much waiting, I was finally in the United States.
My first feeling was a mixture of excitement and disorientation.
Everything was different.
The people.
The language.
The enormous spaces.
Even the security procedures seemed to belong to another world.
My encounter with security at Atlanta Airport was quite an experience.
A female officer approached me to carry out a security check.
She explained every movement before doing it, but my English was very limited, and most of the time I understood only a few words.
Just to be safe, I kept answering:
“Yes.”
She spoke.
“Yes.”
She explained.
“Yes.”
At one point, she asked me something I did not understand.
I looked at her, smiled, and answered once again:
“Yes.”
Only when I saw her kneel down in front of me did I realize that she had asked permission to inspect my shoes.
Fortunately, I had given the right answer.
After the September 11 attacks, airport security had become extremely strict.
Since I could not pass through the metal detector because of my wheelchair, I had to undergo several additional checks.
It was not particularly pleasant.
But by then, I had learned to repeat the same sentence to myself:
To see Olivia, I’ll do this and more.
That phrase continued to give me strength.
Once the security checks were behind us, we headed for our next gate.
There, too, we encountered a few problems with the seating arrangements.
Once again, Antonella became my greatest advocate.
She fought to make sure I had enough room for my legs and managed to secure a more comfortable seat.
Las Vegas was getting closer.
Olivia was getting closer.
During the second flight, I realized that my fear of flying had completely disappeared.
In its place was nothing but impatience.
I stared out the window, imagining the moment when I would finally see the city.
As we began our descent, thousands of lights appeared beneath us.
They looked like stars that had fallen to earth.
The closer we came, the more immense that sea of lights became.
I had never seen anything like it.
Las Vegas shone in the middle of the desert like a giant illusion.
I was mesmerized.
A few minutes later, the airplane touched down.
We had arrived.
My dream was now only a few miles away.
Inside the airport, we immediately started looking for posters and advertisements for the concerts.
I searched everywhere.
Every screen.
Every wall.
Every billboard.
But we found nothing.
It didn’t matter.
I had not crossed an ocean to see a poster.
I was there.
Really there.
After twenty-four years of waiting, I had reached the other side of the world.
And in that moment, I realized something.
The dream no longer belonged to the future.
It was no longer something that would happen someday.
It was no longer a wish.
It had become the present.
And the next day, I would see Olivia Newton-John.
Chapter 9 – Las Vegas
By the time we left the airport, it was already evening.
The exhaustion of the journey should have taken over.
After all, we had crossed an ocean.
Spent hours on airplanes.
Made our way through security checks, connections, and unexpected complications.
And yet, I wasn’t sleepy.
I was in Las Vegas.
At last.
During the drive to the hotel, I stared out the window, taking everything in.
The lights.
The signs.
The enormous streets.
It felt as though I had stepped into a movie.
Everything seemed bigger.
Brighter.
More extravagant.
Even the air felt different.
When we arrived at the Paris Hotel, I was speechless.
I had seen photographs.
I had seen images on the internet.
But seeing it in person was something else entirely.
The illuminated Eiffel Tower dominated the skyline.
Lights reflected everywhere.
The entire complex looked as though it had come straight out of a fairy tale.
Or perhaps out of a dream.
We checked in and finally made our way to our room.
I put down my suitcase.
Sat on the bed for a moment.
And smiled.
I was exhausted.
But happy.
The kind of happiness that comes only after chasing something for a very long time.
Meanwhile, Robin had already switched into operational mode.
While I was still trying to process where I was, he was thinking about tickets, schedules, and everything related to the concerts.
It was impossible to stop him.
When it came to Olivia, he became a perfectly organized machine.
We talked for a while longer.
Reviewed plans and schedules.
But every conversation ended in exactly the same place.
Olivia.
Tomorrow.
Olivia.
Tomorrow.
Olivia.
Tomorrow.
At one point, I started looking around.
I searched for anything connected to her.
A poster.
A photograph.
An advertisement.
Any sign that would remind me why I had crossed half the world.
But I found much less than I expected.
That surprised me.
In my imagination, Las Vegas should have been covered with images of Olivia.
Instead, she almost seemed to be hiding.
Perhaps that was better.
Because the real Olivia was not on a billboard.
She was waiting for me in a theatre.
That night, I slept very little.
Far too little.
Every time I closed my eyes, the same thought returned.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I would hear her voice live.
Tomorrow I would see her smile.
Tomorrow I would finally fulfill a dream that had been with me for twenty-four years.
For the first time since leaving home, I was no longer afraid that something might go wrong.
I wasn’t thinking about passports anymore.
I wasn’t thinking about accidents.
I wasn’t thinking about flights.
I was thinking about only one thing.
There were just a few hours left.
And Olivia Newton-John was on the other side of the city.
Chapter 10 – The Concert
We entered the theatre well before the show was due to begin.
Our seats were in the tenth row.
The view of the stage was excellent.
I was comfortable and, most importantly, I could keep with me the bouquet of white roses I had chosen for Olivia.
As we waited, I watched people taking their seats.
I looked for familiar faces.
During the previous months, I had seen so many photographs of fans on Only Olivia, and I hoped I might recognize someone.
Most of all, I was thinking about Nancy, my friend from New York.
I thought I caught sight of someone who looked like her, but I wasn’t sure.
The wait seemed endless.
I was nervous.
Excited.
Happy.
Frightened.
It was as if I were experiencing every possible emotion at the same time.
Every now and then, I glanced at Antonella.
For years we had talked about this moment.
For years we had imagined what my first Olivia concert would be like.
And now we were there.
Only a few minutes remained.
Then eight o’clock arrived.
The lights went down.
The theatre fell silent.
I heard the opening notes of I Honestly Love You.
For a moment, time stood still.
Then, from the right side of the stage, her voice appeared.
“Maybe I hang around here…”
And I began to cry.
Not one tear.
Not two.
I cried without being able to stop.
After twenty-four years, I was finally hearing her live.
After twenty-four years, I was finally seeing her.
Everything I had imagined for so many years was there, right in front of me.
The tears kept falling.
My heart was pounding.
My hands were trembling.
Even my wheelchair seemed to tremble with me.
I could barely open my eyes.
I was afraid.
Afraid that it was a dream.
Afraid of waking up.
Afraid that everything would suddenly disappear.
For long moments, I did not really see the stage.
I could only hear her voice.
It was as if I were experiencing the concert with my soul before I experienced it with my eyes.
Then, slowly, I managed to look.
And there she was.
Dressed in red.
Beautiful.
More beautiful than I had ever imagined.
In that moment, I understood that it was all real.
I was not sitting in my living room.
I was not watching a videotape.
I was not listening to a CD.
I was in Las Vegas.
And Olivia Newton-John was singing in front of me.
Antonella kept telling me to stop crying.
But it was impossible.
Every note seemed to carry me back through time.
Back to the hospital.
Back to the difficult days.
Back to the fears.
Back to the hopes.
Back to all those moments when her voice had kept me company.
Thunderous applause erupted at the end of the song.
Olivia smiled and greeted the audience.
I was still wiping away tears.
Then the second song began.
Have You Never Been Mellow.
Antonella turned toward me.
“Do you want to give her the roses?”
The question caught me completely by surprise.
For a moment, I froze.
Then I answered.
“Yes.”
I picked up the bouquet of white roses.
We stood up.
A member of the staff tried to stop us, explaining that we could not go through.
Antonella, as determined as ever, explained that we simply wanted to give Olivia some flowers.
I have no idea how she managed it.
I only know that a few moments later we were moving toward the stage.
And my heart felt completely out of control.
Olivia was standing on the left side of the stage.
She continued singing.
Then she noticed us.
She slowly walked closer.
She saw me.
And smiled.
A smile that I still remember perfectly today.
My face was still wet with tears.
I probably looked a complete mess.
She leaned down toward me.
I handed her the roses.
And finally, our hands met.
Time seemed to stop.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
For a few seconds, only her eyes and mine existed.
Almost without a voice, I managed to say:
“I love you.”
She squeezed my hand.
Her eyes filled with kindness.
And she replied:
“Thank you.”
Nothing more.
Just two words.
But inside those two words was everything.
She did not let go of my hand immediately.
She held it for a few moments longer.
As if she truly wanted to stay.
As if, for a few seconds, the rest of the theatre no longer existed.
I could hardly breathe.
I looked at her.
She smiled.
And she continued holding my hand.
Then, slowly, we let go.
She returned to the song.
And I made my way back to my seat with a heart that felt ready to burst from my chest.
I did not yet know that this would be only the first magic of the evening.
Chapter 11 – The Pass
When I returned to my seat, my heart was still racing.
Olivia had held my hand.
She had accepted my roses.
She had smiled at me.
For a few moments, I had felt as though the entire world had stopped.
And yet, despite all that happiness, there was still something I longed for.
To talk to her.
To thank her.
To tell her what she had meant in my life.
The songs continued, one after another.
I tried to memorize every gesture, every smile, every word.
But time seemed to move far too quickly.
I knew the set list.
I knew that sooner or later the final song would arrive.
And when it did, I felt a strange sadness.
I was happy.
Immensely happy.
But I knew that soon it would all be over.
To the notes of I Love You, I Honestly Love You, Olivia said goodbye to the audience.
The theatre erupted in applause.
She smiled.
Then she left the stage.
For a few seconds, I remained motionless.
Olivia was no longer there.
The concert was over.
The dream had come true.
And yet, I felt that something was still missing.
At that point, Antonella looked at me.
She had that look I knew so well.
The look of someone who never gives up.
Ever.
“Now we go.”
I understood immediately.
We were not heading for the exit.
We were heading for the backstage area.
Toward our last chance.
Toward the impossible.
We reached the restricted entrance.
And waited outside the door.
A few minutes later, someone from the staff approached us.
They politely explained that we could not stay there.
Antonella told them the story.
She explained that I had come all the way from Italy.
That I had endured a very long journey.
That I had waited twenty-four years for that moment.
The answer was no.
Then another no.
And another.
They told us that Olivia did not meet fans.
That no exceptions were being made.
That we needed to leave.
But Antonella did not move.
Not even an inch.
Neither did I.
We had come too far to give up that easily.
More minutes passed.
More attempts.
More refusals.
The tension continued to grow.
I said very little.
I simply watched Antonella fighting for me.
And in that moment, I realized how much she wanted that pass.
Perhaps almost as much as I did.
But not for herself.
For me.
Then a security guard arrived.
He approached to find out what was happening.
Once again, Antonella told my story.
She explained the difficulties of the journey.
My disability.
The years I had spent waiting for that moment.
Then she said a sentence I still remember perfectly today.
“We’re not asking for much. Please ask Olivia if she would be willing to meet a girl who came all the way from Italy just to see her. Tell her she’s the girl who brought her the white roses. If Olivia says no, we’ll leave.”
The man listened.
Then he went inside.
And the waiting began.
It was probably only a few minutes.
To me, it felt endless.
I couldn’t think.
I couldn’t speak.
I waited.
That was all I could do.
Wait.
Then the door opened.
The man came back toward us.
He was smiling.
And he simply said:
“Olivia wants to meet her.”
For a few seconds, I stood completely still.
I couldn’t believe it.
Antonella started crying.
So did I.
All the tension.
All the fear.
All the disappointments that had built up over the previous months dissolved in an instant.
The man looked at us and, smiling, said:
“Now stop crying. You’ll be going in soon.”
Going in.
That phrase kept echoing in my mind.
Going in.
Going in.
Going in.
I was about to meet Olivia Newton-John.
And all of this was happening because one person had refused to give up.
Antonella.
Chapter 12 – Twenty Minutes That Will Never End
We entered the first waiting room still in disbelief.
Antonella and I kept looking at each other, unable to believe what was happening.
Just a few minutes earlier, they had been telling us to leave.
Just a few minutes earlier, it had seemed impossible.
Now we were waiting for Olivia.
Antonella hugged me.
She was as emotional as I was.
Perhaps even more.
She had fought all evening.
She had argued.
She had insisted.
She had defended my dream as if it were her own.
Today, I know this with certainty:
without her determination, I would never have met Olivia.
I had crossed the ocean.
She had opened the door.
A few minutes later, we were taken into a smaller room.
They told us to wait.
My heart was beating so hard I could almost hear it.
Antonella tried to calm me down.
An impossible task.
“Remember, no tears.”
A beautiful piece of advice.
And completely useless.
How could I not cry in a moment like this?
I was turned away when I sensed movement behind me.
Antonella whispered:
“She’s coming.”
I turned around.
The first thing I saw was her leopard-print skirt.
Then her smile.
That smile I had seen only in photographs for so many years.
Olivia walked toward me.
She held out her hand.
Then she hugged me.
In that moment, everything disappeared.
Las Vegas.
The theatre.
The people in the room.
The disappointments.
The exhaustion.
The rejections.
Even the journey itself.
Only two people remained.
Her and me.
Olivia pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me.
So close that it seemed she wanted to remove any distance between us.
She held my hand.
She looked at me.
She smiled.
I desperately tried to remember everything I had wanted to say.
Naturally, I forgot half of it.
All I managed to say was:
“I love you.”
And then:
“You’re beautiful.”
It wasn’t much.
But it was sincere.
Antonella helped by translating the things I could not explain myself.
I told Olivia that I had followed her for twenty-four years.
I told her that her music had been with me during the most difficult moments of my life.
I told her that, without ever knowing it, she had helped me.
As I spoke, Olivia never looked away.
She never seemed in a hurry.
She never gave the impression that she was waiting for me to finish.
She listened.
Truly listened.
She continued holding my hand in hers.
Sometimes she gently stroked it.
Sometimes she smiled.
Sometimes she became emotional.
And that is the thing that still moves me today when I think back to that evening.
I had arrived there believing that I was the one who needed to thank her.
I never imagined that my story would touch her as well.
At one point, I took a small box out of my bag.
Inside was a gold heart.
A few weeks earlier, I had created a design and had it turned into a piece of jewelry.
It was not just a gift.
It was my way of saying thank you.
When Olivia saw it, she seemed genuinely surprised.
She took it in her hands and examined it carefully.
She turned it over.
Looked at it again.
She asked if I had really designed it myself.
I answered yes.
Antonella translated and confirmed my words.
Olivia kept looking at it.
She seemed sincerely impressed.
She said she liked it very much and that it reminded her of the new symbol used by her record label.
I smiled.
Then I placed my hand over my heart.
“This is my heart.
And I want you to have it.”
I am not sure my English was perfect.
Probably not.
But the meaning reached her.
Olivia looked at the jewelry.
Then she looked at me.
And smiled.
A gentle smile.
The kind you never forget.
A few minutes later, she asked how long I would be staying in Las Vegas.
I answered naturally:
“Only two days.”
She looked surprised.
She glanced at me.
Then at Antonella.
“Only two days?”
Antonella confirmed it.
So I added:
“I came here just to see you.”
A brief silence followed.
Olivia stared at me in disbelief.
As if she were trying to make sure she had heard correctly.
Then she turned once again toward Antonella.
“Really?”
Antonella nodded.
And at that moment, I saw something change in her eyes.
They became misty.
She squeezed my hand more tightly.
She was genuinely moved.
As if she could hardly believe that someone had traveled so far to spend less than three days in Las Vegas.
Just to attend her concerts.
Just to say thank you.
I also told her about the trip I had planned the previous year.
I explained that everything had been ready for Atlantic City until September 11 changed everything.
Olivia lowered her eyes slightly.
“Terrible… really terrible…”
she said softly.
For a moment, she seemed to relive that tragedy.
Her voice trembled ever so slightly.
Then we moved on to lighter subjects.
I told her about my website dedicated to her.
She seemed very interested.
She asked for the address.
Unfortunately, overwhelmed by emotion, I could not remember to give it to her.
Even today, that still makes me smile.
At one point, Olivia asked whether I had a photograph for her to autograph.
I didn’t.
I had never imagined I would actually meet her.
She seemed almost disappointed.
So she called a member of her staff and asked for a photograph to be brought in.
It was one of those small gestures that touched me deeply.
She didn’t have to do it.
Yet she did.
Because during those twenty minutes, she wasn’t treating me like just another fan.
She was treating me like a person.
A little later, she sat down beside me.
Not in front of me.
Beside me.
As if we were simply two people having a conversation.
One hand remained resting on my arm.
Sometimes she touched my hand.
Sometimes she looked at me and smiled.
Then she began asking questions.
She wanted to know about my health.
She wanted to understand what had happened to me.
She asked Antonella whether my condition was stable or progressive.
She listened carefully to every answer.
It wasn’t polite curiosity.
It was genuine interest.
Antonella told her part of my story.
The difficult years.
The battles I had faced.
And the special connection I felt with the song Why Me.
When she heard the title, Olivia smiled.
I told her how important that song had been to me.
How deeply I had connected with its questions.
With its search for meaning in life’s difficulties.
She looked at me.
Her eyes became misty once again.
Then she said something I will never forget.
Why Me was one of her favorite songs too.
She squeezed my hand.
And for a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Words were no longer necessary.
A little later, the photograph finally arrived.
Olivia began writing the dedication.
I watched her.
Every gesture.
Every smile.
Every movement.
Trying to store everything in my memory.
When she finished, she handed me the photograph with a smile.
Then she turned to Antonella.
“And what about you? Don’t you want an autograph too?”
Antonella smiled.
She explained that she was there mainly for me.
But Olivia insisted.
And she prepared a dedication for her as well.
Another small gesture that revealed so much about the kind of person she was.
Then it was time for photographs.
She moved even closer.
And wrapped her arms around me.
Her cheek touched mine.
I could smell her light perfume.
I could feel the warmth of her embrace.
At one point, I tried to look directly into her eyes.
It lasted only a second.
But I still remember it today.
The intensity of her gaze exceeded anything I could have imagined.
It is difficult to explain.
Difficult even to endure.
A few minutes later, Olivia stood up.
Unfortunately, other people were waiting to see her.
She thanked us.
She held my hand one last time.
Then she hugged me.
We said goodbye.
And slowly, she walked away.
I watched her without being able to look elsewhere.
The way you watch something you are afraid of losing.
The last image I carry from that evening is not the stage.
It is not the photograph.
It is not the autograph.
It is not even the gold heart.
It is Olivia walking away with a smile.
Her blonde hair.
Her leopard-print skirt.
And the hand that had held mine for twenty minutes.
When the door closed behind her, I remained motionless.
I could not speak.
I could not think.
I knew only one thing.
For twenty-four years, I had dreamed of that meeting.
And now it had truly happened.
Twenty minutes.
Only twenty minutes.
And yet, even today, they have never ended.
Chapter 13 – Realization
When we left the room, I felt as though I were walking inside a dream.
Actually, not even that.
Because sooner or later, you wake up from a dream.
I was completely awake.
And yet, I still struggled to believe what had just happened.
Antonella and I kept looking at each other.
Every now and then, one of us would begin a sentence.
Then stop.
Unable to find the words.
How do you describe twenty minutes like that?
How do you explain an emotion that feels too large even for words?
Robin and Graziella were waiting for us outside.
The moment they saw us, they understood.
Nothing needed to be said.
We had done it.
I had met her.
I still remember their smiles.
Their happiness.
They were almost as happy as I was.
Perhaps because they had lived through the entire journey with me.
All the waiting.
All the fears.
All the disappointments.
All the failed attempts.
And now they were seeing the result.
We stopped to tell them what had happened.
I spoke quickly.
Jumping from one detail to another.
A sentence.
A smile.
A gentle touch.
Her hand.
The gold heart.
The questions about my health.
I was afraid of forgetting something.
As if every passing minute might erase a detail.
But that was impossible.
Some things had already found their way into the safest place that exists.
The heart.
Before going to dinner, we returned to our room.
The first thing I did was carefully put the autographed photograph somewhere safe.
I looked at it for a long time.
Then I put it away with great care.
I was never going to risk damaging it.
It was much more than a photograph.
It was proof that everything had really happened.
We went downstairs for dinner.
It was almost eleven o’clock at night.
None of us was truly hungry.
But we needed to be together.
To talk.
To relive every moment.
To savor that emotion a little longer.
For most of the evening, I talked only about Olivia.
Actually…
we all talked only about Olivia.
We repeated the same stories.
The same sentences.
The same smiles.
As if by telling them again, we could hold on to them a little longer.
When I returned to the room, I wasn’t sleepy.
I was exhausted.
But I wasn’t sleepy.
I got ready for bed and spent a long time alone with my thoughts.
I replayed every moment in my mind.
Her entrance into the room.
Her smile.
Her questions.
The way she kept holding my hand.
The kindness with which she listened to me.
The more I thought about it, the more one certainty grew inside me.
The most beautiful part of that meeting had not been the celebrity.
It had not been the backstage pass.
It had not been the photograph.
It had been the person.
Olivia was exactly as I had always hoped she would be.
Perhaps even more.
In the middle of the night, I felt someone watching me.
I opened my eyes.
It was Antonella.
She couldn’t sleep either.
She was looking at me in the darkness.
Waiting for me to wake up.
She needed to talk.
She needed to share what she was feeling.
We found ourselves whispering like two little girls after a very special day.
We talked about every detail.
Every word.
Every emotion.
And that was when I realized something.
I was not the only one who had received a gift that evening.
Antonella was happy too.
She was relieved.
For years, she had feared that Olivia might be nothing more than an idealized image.
A dream we had created ourselves.
Something too wonderful to be real.
But she wasn’t.
She was real.
And she truly was special.
Antonella’s tears were my tears too.
For different reasons.
But they came from the same place.
Gratitude.
That night, we fell asleep late.
Perhaps very late.
But with a certainty that would stay with us forever.
After so many years of waiting, dreaming, and hoping, we had finally discovered that the person we had admired for so long was exactly what she seemed to be.
An extraordinary woman.
Chapter 14 – The Second Day in Las Vegas
When I woke up, my first thought was of Olivia.
Not Las Vegas.
Not the trip.
Not even the meeting from the night before.
Olivia.
The previous evening, I had fulfilled a dream that had been with me for twenty-four years.
And yet, I did not feel satisfied.
I felt only a strong desire to see her again.
To hear her voice again.
To return to that theatre.
To relive those emotions.
Perhaps it was inevitable.
For years, I had imagined that moment.
Then it had finally arrived.
And now I did not want to let it go.
After breakfast, we went out to explore the city.
Las Vegas continued to amaze me.
Every hotel seemed like a world of its own.
We visited the Excalibur.
The Monte Carlo.
The Luxor.
Everywhere there was something surprising.
Castles.
Pyramids.
Statues.
Giant sets and decorations.
It felt as though I were crossing different continents without ever leaving the same street.
While visiting the Excalibur, something amusing happened.
Two entertainers asked me what I was doing in Las Vegas.
I was wearing a T-shirt with Olivia’s face on it.
Proudly, I replied:
“I came all the way from Italy to see Olivia Newton-John.”
The expressions on their faces immediately changed.
First surprise.
Then disbelief.
They probably thought I was joking.
But it was the absolute truth.
I had crossed half the world for her.
And I was happy about it.
Despite all the wonders of the city, my thoughts kept drifting back to the evening ahead.
I wished eight o’clock would arrive immediately.
Fortunately, time passed fairly quickly.
We walked around.
Took photographs.
Laughed.
Went in and out of shops.
And all the while, the countdown continued.
At one point, I decided that I wanted to bring another gift to Olivia.
The day before, there had been the white roses.
That evening, I wanted something different.
Graziella and I returned to Caesars Palace and began looking at stuffed animals.
There were all kinds.
Small ones.
Large ones.
Colorful ones.
Elegant ones.
Classic ones.
After a long period of indecision, we found the right one.
A large white dog.
We looked at it.
Then we looked at each other.
The decision was made.
He would accompany me to the second concert.
We returned to the hotel.
Graziella was tired.
I wasn’t.
Or at least, that was what I told myself.
My legs were still badly swollen.
But excitement continued to outweigh everything else.
I stayed in the room only a few minutes.
Then Antonella and I went back out.
We went to see the hotel pool.
I wasn’t expecting to meet Olivia.
Or at least, not officially.
The truth is that every fan who finds themselves staying in the same hotel as their favorite artist secretly nurtures a small hope.
Among the people there, I recognized Andy, the guitarist.
He greeted me with a smile.
And I, remaining faithful to my legendary shyness, managed only to reply:
“Hi.”
And nothing more.
Antonella laughed quite a lot at my reaction.
We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to make time pass.
Even the slot machines became a way of bringing the evening closer.
Las Vegas was the city of gambling.
It was impossible not to try at least once.
For a few minutes, I had fun.
I even won a few dollars.
Then I lost almost all of them.
But it didn’t matter.
That day, I wasn’t there to win money.
I was there for something much more important.
The evening was approaching.
And with it, the second concert.
My heart began to race again.
Just as it had the day before.
Perhaps even more.
Because now I knew exactly what was waiting for me.
And I knew something else as well.
Every passing minute brought me closer to the concert.
But it also brought me closer to leaving.
And that thought was already beginning to hurt.
Chapter 15 – The Last Evening
We made our way down to the theatre a little early.
That evening, I wanted to take everything in slowly.
To savor every minute.
Every detail.
Every emotion.
Before going inside, we stopped at the merchandise shop.
It was crowded.
While waiting my turn, I noticed a man looking at me with a familiar expression.
Then he called out:
“Mariateresa?”
I looked at him in surprise.
It was Tom.
Nancy’s husband.
A short distance away, there she was too.
At last, we were meeting after so many attempts.
With my rather uncertain English, I began to speak.
Fortunately, Antonella quickly came to my rescue.
We talked for a few minutes.
Nancy showed me some photographs she had taken the night before.
She was sorry she had not managed to capture the moment when I handed the roses to Olivia.
But her kindness touched me deeply.
It felt incredible to be standing there, on the other side of the world, talking to people I had met through the same passion.
When my turn came, I bought a few souvenirs.
A T-shirt.
A keychain.
A magnetic photograph.
And, of course, the tour program.
I kept flipping through it.
The photographs were beautiful.
As always, I had an almost unreasonable fear of damaging anything connected to Olivia’s world.
So I entrusted everything to Robin and asked him to take it back to the room.
I trusted him more than I trusted myself.
A little later, the theatre doors opened.
We went inside.
And my heart immediately began to race again.
I already knew what was about to happen.
And yet, the emotion was exactly the same as the night before.
Perhaps even stronger.
The lights dimmed.
The music began.
And once again, her voice filled the theatre.
The same voice that had begun accompanying me twenty-four years earlier.
The same voice that the night before had broken something open inside me, only to set it free.
The tears returned.
Less overwhelming than the night before.
But still there.
Always there.
I watched Olivia.
Listened to every word.
Tried to imprint everything in my memory.
I knew time was moving.
Too quickly.
At one point, it was time for the big white dog.
I had bought it that afternoon for that exact moment.
During one of the songs, I decided to bring it to her.
I approached the stage.
Olivia saw me.
She recognized me.
She smiled.
I handed her the stuffed dog.
Once again, she took my hand.
Only for a few seconds.
I didn’t want to be intrusive.
The night before, she had already given me something infinitely precious.
Her smile was enough.
Knowing that she remembered me was enough.
I returned to my seat happy.
With a full heart.
The concert continued.
Song after song.
Applause after applause.
Until the moment I had tried to ignore all evening finally arrived.
The last song.
The last goodbye.
The last smile.
Olivia thanked the audience.
She waved.
And slowly left the stage.
The applause seemed endless.
No one wanted it to end.
Least of all me.
But every kind of magic eventually reaches its final moment.
And this one had reached it too.
I remained seated for a few seconds longer.
Looking at the now-empty stage.
Trying to hold on to its image.
Trying to hold on to the feeling.
Knowing that the next morning I would be leaving Las Vegas.
We left the theatre.
We met Nancy and Tom again.
Talked for a few more minutes.
Then we returned to the hotel.
We had to pack our suitcases.
The alarm clock would ring very early.
That night, I slept very little.
Just like the first night.
But for different reasons.
It was not anticipation that kept me awake.
It was gratitude.
I closed my eyes thinking of the stage.
Of her voice.
Of her smile.
And before I fell asleep, one thought crossed my mind.
If the previous day had fulfilled a dream…
this second day had given me something even more precious.
The certainty that some moments come to an end.
But never truly leave us.
I had arrived in Las Vegas to meet Olivia Newton-John.
I was leaving with a memory that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
Chapter 16 – Returning Home
The alarm clock rang far too early.
As it always does when you are happy somewhere.
The suitcases were almost ready.
Las Vegas was slowly becoming a city again.
No longer the place of a dream.
No longer the place where I had met Olivia.
A city.
Beautiful.
Bright.
Extraordinary.
But still a city.
The real dream was now traveling home with me.
During the drive to the airport, I looked one last time at the desert surrounding Las Vegas.
I thought about the days that had just passed.
The laughter.
The limousine.
The giant billboard.
The white roses.
The battle for the pass.
Antonella’s joy.
Graziella’s quiet presence.
Robin.
And, of course, Olivia.
Every memory still seemed suspended somewhere between reality and imagination.
As if part of me had not yet fully accepted what had happened.
The journey home was long.
Very long.
But completely different from the journey out.
On the way there, I had been full of expectations.
On the way back, I was full of memories.
On the way there, I was accompanied by questions.
On the way back, I was accompanied by answers.
I had seen Olivia.
I had heard her voice.
I had spoken with her.
I had felt the warmth of her hands.
And above all, I had discovered that the person I had admired for twenty-four years was exactly as I had always hoped.
Perhaps even better.
When I arrived home, many people asked me:
“So? How was it?”
Every time, I smiled.
Then I began to tell the story.
But I quickly realized that it was impossible to truly explain what I had felt.
How do you describe a voice that has accompanied you for twenty-four years?
How do you describe a dream that suddenly comes to life?
How do you explain twenty minutes that continue to live inside you long after everything else has ended?
Some emotions cannot be told.
They can only be lived.
And this was one of them.
The journey was over.
I was home again.
Life would continue.
With its problems.
Its challenges.
Its battles.
But from that day on, I knew one thing.
Whenever I needed a reason to smile, all I would have to do was close my eyes.
And I would be back there.
In Las Vegas.
In that theatre.
Holding the hand that had held mine.
Because some dreams come to an end.
But the memories they leave behind never do.
Interlude
Twenty Years Later (2026)
When I returned home, I thought the story was over.
I had fulfilled the dream that had accompanied me for twenty-four years.
I had seen Olivia perform live.
I had spoken with her.
I had held her hand.
I had returned home with a heart full of memories.
For a long time, I believed I could not possibly wish for anything more.
After all, I had already received far more than I had ever dared to hope for.
But life, sometimes, enjoys surprising us.
Over the years, many people have asked me what the most beautiful memory of that journey is.
Most imagine the concerts.
The photographs.
The autographs.
The backstage meeting.
I think of a hand.
A hand that remained wrapped around mine for almost the entire time.
A hand that was in no hurry to let go.
A hand that made me feel heard.
Welcomed.
Understood.
And I think of Antonella.
Because I crossed the ocean.
But she was the one who opened the door.
Reading these pages again after so many years, I still find the same emotion.
The same disbelief.
The same gratitude.
I thought that was the end of the story.
In reality, it was only the beginning.
Less than a year later, I would return to Las Vegas.
With Antonella.
With a new traveling companion.
And with a dream that, incredibly, was about to begin all over again.
Ten Months Later August 2003
Chapter 17 – A New Fairy
When I first started thinking about returning to Las Vegas, one of the first questions I asked myself was the same one I had faced the year before.
Who would travel with me?
A trip to the United States was not something that could be organized at the last minute.
It required planning for anyone.
For me, even more so.
I needed someone I could trust.
Someone who could face the challenges of such a long journey with calmness and confidence.
That was when Eda entered the story.
Eda was a nurse.
But describing her only as a nurse would not do her justice.
In the years that followed, she would become one of my Fairies with True Hearts, that special group of people who left an important mark on my life.
Her presence made me feel safe.
Knowing that she would be with me on the other side of the world brought me peace of mind.
But Eda was more than reassuring.
She also had an extraordinary ability to make things feel lighter.
She laughed easily.
She loved to joke.
She always found a way to turn even the unexpected into a story worth telling.
A quality that, as I would soon discover, would prove invaluable.
Because that journey would give us wonderful moments.
But also a few unexpected adventures.
Antonella, of course, was part of the expedition.
By then, she had become my official companion in all Olivia-related adventures.
The one who never gave up.
The tireless translator.
The person who always managed to find the right words whenever I could not.
And so, in August 2003, we were ready.
Me.
Antonella.
Eda.
Three women.
Three completely different personalities.
One destination.
Las Vegas.
Ten months earlier, I had returned home convinced that I had experienced something unique.
Something that could never be repeated.
I never imagined that less than a year later I would find myself once again on an airplane bound for the other side of the world.
What none of us knew yet was that this journey would be very different from the first.
Not only because of Olivia.
But because of everything we were about to experience together.
Chapter 18 – Returning to Las Vegas
The journey passed in a blur of conversation, laughter, and growing anticipation.
Ten months earlier, I had boarded a plane with a heart full of questions.
This time was different.
I already knew what it meant to arrive in Las Vegas.
I knew what it felt like to see the Paris Hotel glowing in the night.
I knew what it felt like to walk into that theatre.
I knew what it felt like to hear Olivia’s voice live.
And yet, the excitement was exactly the same.
Perhaps even stronger.
When we arrived at the Paris Hotel, our first surprise was waiting for us.
The accessible room we had reserved was not available.
For a few minutes, we thought the trip was beginning in the worst possible way.
We explained the situation.
They checked the reservations.
They talked among themselves.
Then came a completely unexpected proposal.
Since they did not have an accessible room available, they would upgrade us to a suite.
A real suite.
On one of the upper floors.
With VIP access.
I still remember our faces.
Within seconds, we went from worried to utterly astonished.
We entered the room and immediately began exploring it like children discovering a giant new toy.
Eda was laughing.
I was laughing.
Antonella was making a heroic but unsuccessful effort to remain dignified.
The vacation had officially begun.
While we were unpacking, Eda immediately took possession of the bouquet of roses I had brought for Olivia.
She examined it.
Turned it around.
Adjusted it.
Corrected every tiny detail.
She looked like a professional florist.
Or perhaps an art restorer.
Every so often, she would step back to inspect it from a distance.
Then she would return to rearrange a leaf.
Step back again.
And start all over.
Antonella and I watched her in amusement.
Neither of us dared interfere.
The bouquet had clearly become her personal responsibility.
None of us imagined that only a few hours later it would become the star of one of the funniest moments of the entire trip.
But there would be time for that.
From the suite window, I looked out over Las Vegas.
The city sparkled exactly as I remembered.
The lights.
The signs.
The endless flow of people.
But this time, I no longer felt as though I had arrived in an unfamiliar place.
It felt like returning to somewhere that already held a piece of my heart.
Chapter 19 – A City to Experience
Ten months earlier, Las Vegas had been, above all, the place where I would see Olivia.
I remembered the lights.
The hotels.
The casinos.
But, to be honest, most of my attention had been focused elsewhere.
On the concert.
On the meeting.
On the emotions.
This time was different.
We had an entire week ahead of us.
And we had decided to enjoy the city.
At last.
Every day, we set out to explore a different hotel.
In Las Vegas, each hotel seemed like a world of its own.
You could travel from one continent to another simply by crossing the street.
One moment you were in Paris.
The next in Ancient Rome.
Then Egypt.
Then Venice.
It was surreal.
And wonderful.
One of the places that impressed me the most was The Venetian.
Walking inside felt like being transported back to Italy.
Canals.
Bridges.
Palaces.
Even the sky looked real.
We spent a long time wandering around, admiring every detail.
Then came the gondola ride.
Naturally, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
So there we were, gliding slowly through the artificial canals while the gondolier sang.
I laughed.
Eda laughed.
Antonella shook her head.
Probably convinced that the two of us were a lost cause.
It was one of those moments of pure happiness.
No worries.
No plans.
Just the pleasure of being there.
In another hotel, we discovered an entire world dedicated to Celine Dion.
Posters.
Photographs.
Advertisements.
Promotional material everywhere.
No matter where we went, she seemed impossible to avoid.
The difference compared to Olivia was obvious.
Very obvious.
Sometimes I would stop and look at all that publicity and smile.
Thinking that despite that enormous promotional machine, I had crossed an ocean for someone else.
Of course, we didn’t spend all our time visiting hotels.
One of the most exciting moments of the entire week was our flight over the Grand Canyon.
I still remember the moment we took off.
The desert seemed endless.
Then the Canyon appeared.
Immense.
Silent.
Majestic.
For several minutes, I simply stared.
There are no photographs capable of truly capturing what it feels like to see it in person.
It was one of those sights that makes you feel very small in the face of nature’s greatness.
But the real adventure of the week arrived completely unexpectedly.
One morning, I noticed that one of my wheelchair wheels had a problem.
At first, we hoped it was something minor.
It wasn’t.
The tire was flat.
Perfect.
We were in Las Vegas.
In August.
With temperatures that felt as though they belonged inside an industrial oven.
I still remember the three of us searching for someone who could help.
Walking beneath an impossible sun.
Probably 118 degrees.
Maybe even more.
At some point, the situation became so absurd that we started laughing.
Because when you find yourself on the other side of the world with a flat wheelchair tire, you have two choices.
You can panic.
Or you can laugh about it.
We chose the second option.
Looking back today, one of the most beautiful memories of that week is not a specific place.
It is not a hotel.
It is not a monument.
It is not even the Grand Canyon.
It is the laughter.
The conversations.
The unexpected adventures.
The feeling of being happy together.
Eda had an extraordinary gift for making any situation feel lighter.
Antonella always found a solution.
I simply enjoyed the journey.
And for the first time, Las Vegas stopped being only Olivia’s city.
It became our city too.
Chapter 20 – Those Names Finally Had Faces
Over the years, I had met many people because of Olivia.
People scattered across every corner of the world.
We exchanged emails.
Shared photographs.
Commented on concerts.
Passed along news and updates.
Talked about songs and memories.
For a long time, however, they had remained mostly names on a screen.
In Las Vegas, everything changed.
Suddenly those people had voices.
Smiles.
Laughter.
Accents.
Their own unique ways of talking about Olivia.
Every day, I met someone I had spoken with dozens of times online.
And every time, it felt like a small surprise.
It was strange and wonderful at the same time.
Like reconnecting with old friends who, in reality, you had never actually met.
I realized that we came from different countries.
We were different ages.
We had different stories.
Completely different lives.
And yet, there was something that connected us all.
A voice.
A song.
An emotion.
Olivia had been the starting point.
But by then, she was no longer the only reason that kept us together.
Friendships had been born.
Connections.
Genuine affection.
I loved listening to other people’s stories.
Discovering how many miles they had traveled.
How many concerts they had attended.
How different—and yet how similar—each person’s journey had been.
During those days, I understood something.
Olivia had not simply filled theatres.
She had built bridges.
Bridges between people who otherwise might never have met.
Looking back today, one of the most beautiful parts of that trip was precisely this.
Discovering that behind the messages, the emails, and the chats were real people.
People who laughed.
Who became emotional.
Who waited for concerts with the same impatience.
And who, like me, had crossed oceans to be there.
Those names, at last, had faces.
Chapter 21 – The Roses
That evening, I had a special appointment.
It wasn’t written anywhere.
It wasn’t scheduled.
And yet, I knew it would happen.
Olivia would step onto the stage.
I would be there.
And in my hands was a bouquet of roses.
Just as I had done the year before, I had decided to bring her flowers.
But this time, there was someone who took the task far more seriously than I did.
Eda.
For most of the afternoon, she studied that bouquet as if it were a priceless work of art in need of restoration.
She adjusted a flower.
Straightened a leaf.
Corrected a ribbon.
Then stepped back to inspect the result.
A few seconds later, she would return to change something else.
And start all over again.
Antonella and I watched in amusement.
She looked as though she were preparing a gift for a queen.
And, deep down, perhaps she was.
When we arrived at the theatre, my heart began to beat faster.
I already knew that feeling.
I had experienced it ten months earlier.
And yet, it was still there.
Untouched.
The lights dimmed.
The audience applauded.
The music began.
Then Olivia appeared.
For a few moments, I forgot everything else.
Las Vegas.
The trip.
The sightseeing.
The hotels.
Only the stage existed.
And her voice.
Then something happened that I did not expect.
She saw me.
I am certain of it.
Because a few minutes later, she walked toward me.
She smiled.
And while greeting me, she did something that left me speechless.
She took my hand.
Not just any hand.
The one I could move more easily.
I froze.
To anyone else, it might have seemed like a simple gesture.
To me, it was not.
Ten months earlier, she had noticed that detail.
She had paid attention.
And now she remembered it.
Among hundreds of people.
In the middle of a concert.
In the middle of a tour.
She remembered.
And that was the moment I realized something.
She had not simply remembered my face.
She had remembered me.
Later, it was time for the roses.
I handed her the bouquet.
Olivia smiled.
She accepted it.
Then she began using it during the show.
She waved it in the air.
She danced with it in rhythm with the music.
She seemed to be having tremendous fun.
I was happy.
Very happy.
Beside me, however, Eda was having a completely different experience.
She watched the bouquet with growing concern.
She followed every movement Olivia made.
Every swing.
Every flourish.
Every spin.
Then, at one point, she whispered:
“Oh dear… they’re going to fly apart any second now…”
I burst out laughing.
She was genuinely convinced that at any moment the flowers would scatter all over the stage.
The more Olivia enjoyed herself with the bouquet, the more worried Eda became.
Fortunately, the bouquet survived.
And so did Eda.
Chapter 22 – The Last One in Line
When it was time for the fan club meet-and-greet, I entered the room with a very specific strategy.
For once, I did not want to be among the first.
Quite the opposite.
I wanted to be one of the last.
I had developed a theory of my own.
If I went in immediately, Olivia would still have many people waiting to meet her.
But if I waited until the end, perhaps I would have more time.
More peace and quiet.
More opportunity to talk with her.
In my mind, the logic was flawless.
So I positioned myself a few places back.
I let other people go ahead.
Then a few more.
Convinced that I had come up with a brilliant plan.
Antonella watched me with amusement.
I think she had already realized that my strategy had a few weaknesses.
I, however, was completely satisfied.
Patiently waiting for my moment.
Then I looked up.
Olivia was looking at me.
She smiled.
And motioned for me to come over.
It was a perfectly clear gesture.
There was no misunderstanding.
She was calling me.
I responded with a gesture of my own.
One that roughly meant:
“Later.”
As though I were in a position to negotiate.
As though I could tell Olivia Newton-John to wait a few minutes.
She smiled.
I stayed exactly where I was.
Still convinced that I could continue with my plan.
It didn’t last long.
A few moments later, her assistant approached me.
She smiled.
Then very politely made it clear that Olivia was waiting for me.
At that point, I realized that my brilliant strategy had officially failed.
I had no more excuses.
The moment had arrived.
I stood up.
Took a deep breath.
And began walking toward her.
My heart was pounding.
The closer I got, the stronger the emotion became.
This time, I wasn’t simply another fan standing in line among many others.
It felt as though Olivia was genuinely waiting for me.
And I had no idea that, only a few seconds later, we would both find ourselves in tears.
Chapter 23 – How are you?
I walked toward the table with my heart racing.
Ten months earlier, I had crossed an ocean to meet her.
Now I was there again.
And despite everything we had experienced during that week, I felt just as emotional as I had the first time.
Olivia immediately stood up.
She didn’t wait for me to come to her.
She came toward me.
With a huge smile.
And open arms.
“How are you?”
She hugged me.
And that was all it took.
I couldn’t hold back.
I burst into tears.
Not graceful tears.
Not a few discreet drops.
I was really crying.
All the emotion that had built up throughout that week came pouring out in a single moment.
The concerts.
The laughter.
The anticipation.
The happiness of being back.
Everything at once.
But what I did not expect was something else.
Olivia became emotional too.
We remained there, holding each other.
I was crying.
Her eyes were shining with tears.
For a few seconds, neither of us could say very much.
There was no need.
The hug said everything.
When we finally pulled apart, Olivia wiped her eyes.
Then she called her assistant over.
She asked for a tissue.
As she dabbed away her tears, she looked at me.
Shook her head slightly.
And with a smile said:
“Look what you’ve done…”
Then she broke into a huge grin.
At that point, I started laughing too.
Through the tears.
Through the embarrassment.
Through the happiness.
It was impossible to do anything else.
We sat down.
Olivia kept looking at me as though she was still trying to understand how I had managed to make it all the way there for a second time.
She asked how I was.
How the trip had gone.
How long I had been in Las Vegas.
I told her I had been there for several days.
That I had attended every concert.
Her expression changed immediately.
She looked at me with surprise.
Almost disbelief.
“You’ve been to all the shows?”
I nodded.
She remained silent for a few seconds.
Then she said something that made me burst out laughing.
“At least tell me you’ve gone to see Celine Dion…”
With all the publicity surrounding Celine in Las Vegas, it was a perfectly reasonable question.
Posters.
Billboards.
Advertisements everywhere.
She seemed impossible to avoid.
But I shook my head.
“No.
I’m here for you.”
Olivia looked at me.
She placed a hand over her heart.
And that familiar expression appeared on her face.
The one I had already come to recognize.
The one that appeared whenever something truly touched her.
Her eyes filled with tears again.
And for a few seconds, she seemed genuinely speechless.
As if she still could not quite believe that someone had returned all the way from Italy just to see her.
Chapter 24 – The Gifts
After the tears, the hugs, and the laughter, the atmosphere became calmer.
I finally felt relaxed.
Or at least as relaxed as it is possible to feel when you are sitting across from Olivia Newton-John.
I had brought a few small gifts with me.
Nothing particularly expensive.
But each one carried a special meaning.
I had always believed that a gift should not be measured by its monetary value.
It should tell something about the person giving it.
I began with a teddy bear.
Then a watch.
Small objects prepared with affection and patience.
Olivia examined each one carefully.
She held them in her hands.
Asked questions.
Smiled.
She had that rare ability to make the person in front of her feel important.
She did not look at gifts as simple objects.
She looked at the intention behind them.
Then came the most unusual gift.
I took out a copy of the story I had written after my 2002 trip.
I had printed it.
Formatted it.
Bound it carefully.
It even had a beautiful cover.
It almost looked like a real book.
I placed it in front of her.
Olivia picked it up with curiosity.
She studied it.
Flipped through the pages.
Read a few lines.
Then she looked at me.
For a few moments, she seemed to be thinking.
Finally, with an expression that was half serious and half amused, she said that I might have a copyright problem.
I burst out laughing.
It was the last comment I had expected.
I immediately explained that she didn’t need to worry.
It wasn’t for sale.
It wasn’t intended for publication.
That copy was for her alone.
A unique copy.
Her expression changed immediately.
She seemed relieved.
Then she smiled.
And continued turning the pages.
Every now and then, she stopped at a page.
Looked at a photograph.
Read a few lines.
She seemed genuinely interested.
At that moment, I experienced a strange feeling.
Ten months earlier, I had lived through one of the most important experiences of my life.
Then I had returned home and tried to capture it in words.
Now that story was there.
In the hands of the person who had inspired it.
And it all felt almost unreal.
We continued talking for a long time.
About travel.
About concerts.
About memories.
Time kept passing without me noticing.
At some point, I completely lost track of it.
I no longer knew whether ten minutes had passed.
Twenty.
Thirty.
It didn’t matter.
For the second time in my life, I had the feeling that time had stopped.
Only much later would I discover that, outside the room, someone had begun wondering how long our meeting was going to last.
But at that moment, I knew nothing about it.
And honestly, I didn’t want to know.
There was only that table.
That smile.
And a conversation I would never forget.
Chapter 25 – Outside the Door
While I was sitting inside talking with Olivia, the world continued moving on outside the room.
Of course, I knew nothing about it.
At that moment, I was completely absorbed in our conversation.
In her smile.
In her questions.
In the way she made you feel truly heard.
It was only later that I learned what had been happening outside.
Eda had remained in the waiting area.
Patiently waiting.
Every now and then, she checked her watch.
Every now and then, she looked at the line.
Every now and then, she tried to figure out how much time had passed.
But the minutes kept slipping by.
The meeting was lasting much longer than anyone had expected.
Time passed.
And the line did not move.
Some fans began to grow impatient.
A few started to complain.
Others wondered why it was taking so long.
From their point of view, it was understandable.
They did not know my story.
They knew nothing about the journey.
Nothing about the previous year.
All they saw was a closed door.
And time passing.
Eda listened.
But she said nothing.
She knew far too well what that moment meant to me.
She knew how long I had waited.
How much I had dreamed.
How much I had hoped.
Then something happened that still moves me when I think about it today.
One of Olivia’s backing singers overheard the comments.
And decided to step in.
Calmly.
Simply.
She said a sentence that Eda never forgot.
“The time Olivia is giving her is nothing compared to what she has done to be here.”
Silence.
There was no anger in those words.
No criticism.
Only understanding.
The awareness that sometimes years lie behind a meeting.
That behind a few minutes are thousands of miles.
That behind a conversation are dreams that have crossed continents.
When Eda later told me about that moment, I fell silent.
I didn’t know what to say.
Because, honestly, I had never thought about the journey in those terms.
To me, it had seemed completely natural.
I wanted to see Olivia.
So I went.
That was all.
Only later did I fully understand the meaning of those words.
They were not speaking only about me.
They were speaking about everyone who, for love, friendship, or gratitude, is willing to travel a very long road.
Sometimes without even realizing it.
While people outside were discussing the passing of time, I was still sitting in front of Olivia.
Talking.
Laughing.
Listening.
Completely unaware of everything.
And perhaps that was for the best.
Because some moments should not have a time limit.
Some moments deserve to be lived without looking at the clock.
Chapter 26 – The Hardest Moment
Throughout the entire meeting, I had tried not to think about it.
To enjoy every moment.
Every smile.
Every question.
Every word.
But sooner or later, that moment was bound to arrive.
The moment of saying goodbye.
I cannot say how much time had passed.
Twenty minutes.
Perhaps more.
Perhaps much more.
Inside that room, time had stopped behaving normally.
It moved differently.
At one point, Olivia glanced at her watch.
Then she looked at me.
And I understood.
The meeting was coming to an end.
It was not a sudden feeling.
It arrived slowly.
Like the setting sun.
You know it is happening.
But you keep hoping it will stop.
We continued talking for a few more minutes.
As if neither of us truly wanted to close that chapter.
Then came a silence.
A gentle silence.
Not awkward.
Not sad.
A silence filled with things that no longer needed to be said.
Olivia stood up.
I looked at her.
For an instant, the same feeling from 2002 returned.
That subtle fear.
That voice inside whispering:
Now it’s ending.
She stepped closer.
And once again took my hands.
The same hands she had held for most of our conversation.
The same hands that, without my even realizing it, had helped me feel less intimidated.
Less overwhelmed.
More like myself.
We looked at each other.
And in that look was everything.
Gratitude.
Affection.
The joy of finding each other again.
Then she hugged me.
Once more.
A real hug.
Warm.
Sincere.
The kind of hug you do not give out of politeness.
The kind that comes from the heart.
This time, I did not cry.
Or perhaps I did.
I honestly don’t remember.
What I remember is the feeling.
That embrace.
That closeness.
And the certainty that I was living a moment I would carry with me forever.
When we finally let go, neither of us spoke any grand words.
There was no need.
The important things had already been said.
And the most important things had never needed words at all.
I slowly began to walk away.
Still turning back.
Still smiling.
The way children do when they do not want to leave a wonderful party.
When I reached the door, I turned around one last time.
Olivia was still there.
She waved goodbye.
I waved back.
Then I left.
Outside, I found Eda.
And I found the real world again.
The line of people.
The corridors.
The hotel lights.
Everything was exactly as it had been before.
And yet, nothing was the same.
For a few seconds, I stood completely still.
Then Eda looked at me.
Smiled.
And said something that brought me back down to earth.
Probably one of her jokes.
That was simply who she was.
Someone capable of bringing you back to reality even in the most emotional moments.
And as we walked away, I found myself thinking something.
Ten months earlier, I had traveled across an ocean to meet Olivia Newton-John.
That evening, I was not simply saying goodbye to an artist I admired.
I was saying goodbye to a person who had left a mark on my heart.
And who, somehow, had kept a small place for me in hers.
💜 Thank you, Nancy. Your photographs did more than document a journey; they preserved emotions that time could never take away.
Epilogue – Beyond Las Vegas
The years passed.
Tours changed.
Life changed.
Mine did too.
I never again traveled across the world to follow Olivia.
Not because my affection for her had diminished.
Simply because life, as it does for everyone, began to take different directions.
And yet, something curious kept happening.
Every now and then, someone would return from a concert.
A convention.
A meeting.
And they would bring back a surprise.
One of those people was Robin.
A devoted Italian fan from Milan.
One of those people who had spent years traveling to concerts, conventions, and events.
Whenever he had the opportunity, he would pass along my greetings.
And every time, Olivia would do the same thing.
She would ask about me.
“How is Mariateresa?”
“Is she doing well?”
“Give her my love.”
The first time, I was surprised.
The second time too.
Then I stopped being surprised and simply smiled.
Because, in truth, she had always been that way.
Attentive to people.
More interested in people than in celebrity.
One day, Robin met her at a convention in Germany.
They talked for a while.
Then he made her a proposal.
“Would you like to surprise Mariateresa?”
Olivia smiled.
And agreed.
Of course, I knew nothing about it.
I was at home.
The telephone rang.
I saw Robin’s number.
I answered casually.
Then I heard a voice.
“Hello Mariateresa, how are you?”
For a moment, time stood still.
I knew that voice.
I would have recognized it anywhere.
All I managed to say was:
“I’m fine. Thank you for the surprise. I love you.”
She laughed.
Then she said:
“Take care of yourself.”
The phone call lasted only a few moments.
Perhaps less than a minute.
And yet, I still remember it today.
Because some emotions do not need to last long.
Another time, a dear friend met her in New York.
She brought along a book for Olivia to sign for me.
Once again, Olivia asked about me.
How I was doing.
What I was doing.
How life was treating me.
At that point, my friend decided to have a little fun.
“You know, she’s cheating on you…”
Olivia looked surprised.
Almost scandalized.
“Really?”
My friend nodded.
“Yes. She has a new great love.”
Olivia looked even more curious.
Then came the explanation.
“His name is Oscar. He’s a Maltese dog.”
“And ever since he arrived, she doesn’t fly across the world chasing you anymore.”
Olivia burst out laughing.
And honestly, so did I when they told me the story.
Because it was true.
Oscar had become part of my family.
Part of my life.
And somehow, he had managed to do what no one else ever had.
Convince me to stay home.
Looking back today on all those years, the songs, the concerts, and the journeys, I realize that my most precious memory is not an autograph.
It is not a photograph.
It is not even Las Vegas.
It is knowing that behind the artist there was a person.
A person capable of remembering.
Of listening.
Of genuinely caring about others.
Perhaps that is why, when I think of Olivia, the first image that comes to mind is not a stage.
Not a song.
Not an album cover.
It is a hand holding mine.
A smile.
And a voice that, years later, from the other end of a telephone line says:
“Hello Mariateresa, how are you?”
Even today, when I think about all of this, I smile.
Because some dreams come true.
Others do something even rarer.
They stay with you for a lifetime.