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The Magical Island

             I can close my eyes and in my mind go back to that exact moment in time. The warmth and heat of a sunny August afternoon kissed my skin. The clear, blue water glistened as the sun shined over it. Sounds of speedboats whizzing by and waves crashing up against the sandy rocks down below.
             Staring off the rocky cliff out on to the water, I took a deep breath and inhaled the pure Italian air. The smell of fresh Limoncela floated by. My sisters and I sipped the lemon-flavored liqueur in the tiny shot glasses. Off to the side stood a little stand that sold Limoncela. One hundred Liras, which roughly converts to 50 cents in American money, could get you a shot of the drink. It was interesting to watch the Italians make it right before our eyes. Shouts of the beautiful language flew back and fourth between the men working the stands. My dad bought us all a shot of the tangy drink. We held up our glasses and yelled "SALUTE," which means "cheers" in Italian. Limoncela is so delicious there is nothing like it here in America. It tastes like an alcoholic, sour lemon drop.
             "Girls, take it easy on that stuff," my dad said laughing when he realized my sisters and I went back for more. Although very delicious, the alcohol in this drink tends to sneak up on you. We left the Limoncela stand, feeling good and refreshed, and continued our hike. .
             Every so often, a very light breeze would sweep by and blow my hair off to the side. I leaned forward on iron railing, the only thing standing between the water and me. Somehow, I got up the courage to climb over the railing.
             "Stef, be careful," my mom said as she watched nervously. I was now standing on a cliff, by myself. With nothing holding me back from the rocky 100 foot drop down to the Mediterranean Sea; I realized how lucky I was to be seeing such beautiful scenery in person. Taking in everything I was seeing for the first time, all I could think was, "Wow, I can't believe I"m here.

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