Father Christmas is a Person

Jack stood up to admire his construction. He had been playing with his Duplo and with Daddy's help had built a whole town, there was a fire station, a car wash, a school and a playground. Yesterday they had put up all the Christmas decorations and he looked around the sitting room, it looked like a magical kingdom.  Maybe he could ask Daddy to put some round the Duplo town. He stepped back, the room looked really marvellous, in the corner near the Christmas tree, a little door had appeared and an elf lived there. Mummy said the elf worked for Father Christmas and came to see if Jack had been good.

Jack wasn't all that sure about Father Christmas and preferred it when the elf didn't live in their sitting room but mummy seemed so excited about it and every morning told Jack what the elf had been doing. 

There was a loud cry from the bedroom which meant his sister Lucy had woken up. Mummy went to get her holding a bottle of milk. Jack was just about to ask Daddy for some lights for the Duplo town when there was a burst of laughter from the bedroom, a joyous sound, one that made Jack smile and run to look what had caused it,

Mummy was giggling and bouncing Lucy up and dow. She pointed to the floor, 

'Oh look Jack, look.' Daddy rushed to join them and he burst out laughing too. Jack looked to where mummy was pointing and his smile froze on his face.

Batman was wearing Cinderella's ball gown, Spiderman was in the doll's cot and Superman had on Ariel's mermaid's tail . Jack  couldn't believe it. What was funny about that?' He looked at his sister giggling in mummy's arms and daddy laughing with his head thrown back and laughing like he did when the television was on.

He picked up Batman, Spiderman and Superman and tore the clothes off them, he threw the mermaid's tail on the bed and stormed out of the room.

Lucy started crying and Mummy ran after him saying something about Father Christmas watching him.

Jack went into the kitchen with his Superheroes, he lined them up next to the dog's basket and told them they had to save the lego man in the cat's basket and he would help them by throwing some string across. He got the string from the peg basket. Lucy waddled in and started to take out the pegs, she smiled at him, putting her face really close to his and pulled at his curls. Her fingers were sticky, he gently pulled them away and kissed her on the cheek,

'It's alright Lucy, look you can have the pegs.'

He threw the pegs into the corridor and she crawled after them. As he helped Spiderman fly across the kitchen to Superman near the fridge which was the North Pole he thought about Father Christmas.He seemed to have super powers like Superman, he could fly all over the world in one night and take presents to millions and millions of children. He was a superhero like Batman, always kind and good and could do incredible things like Spiderman, he could land his sleigh and reindeer wherever he wanted.

 Last year had been so different. Lucy just slept all the time and he and Daddy had built a train set with mummy serving them coffee and cakes from the Armchair Cafe. He didn't know what to think this year. He'd made Lucy cry a lot and Daddy and mummy shouted at him. Maybe Father Christmas wouldn't come. It seemed like now there was Lucy only Grandpa didn't get cross with him. Grandpa never shouted. He always said things like, 'It's a phase, it's alright, kiss and make up.' and always in a soft and gentle voice.

There was a shout from the sitting room and he ran to see what it was. He stood still at the sight of his Duplo town lying in bits and scattered over the floor. Lucy was giggling and it made him want to just, to just, he din't know what, just push her or something. Daddy picked Lucy up and said,

'Lucy that was Jack's town, you mustn't touch Jack's toys.'

Mummy bustled in and trod on one of the Duplo blocks, she cried in pain and started kicking the blocks all over the room,.

She glared at Daddy,

''Paul couldn't you have built the town on the table? You know, like high up, out of someone's reach?'

Daddy rolled his eyes, put Lucy down and held his hands up like a cowboy.

'I?ve got an idea, why don't we go and see Father Christmas? He's in his Grotto at the Garden Centre.'

Mummy looked cross and then smiled at him and went to kiss him

'What a great idea Paul, it will do us good to get some fresh air.'

The next thing there was a whirl of being stuffed into jackets, then gloves and scarfes and hats and they were in the car. Mummy put on the Christmas CD and started singing Jngle Bells. Lucy gurgled, 'Jing jing.'

Mummy turned her head and put her hand on Jack's knee.

'Come on Jack, you know this one, you know the words.'

Jack closed his mouth and put his lips together tight. He didn't feel like singing, he was feeling a bit scared of Father Christmas.

They walked round the Garden Centre and joined the queue for Father Christmas. Jack held on tight to Daddy's hand. The boy in front of them climbed up onto Father Christmas's knee and in a loud voice said all the things he wanted him to bring. He wanted everything in the whole world it seemed to Jack. The list went on and on. He wanted a laser gun and an electric scotter and a jeep. Father Christmas  put the boy down and said, 'Ok off you go, I'll see what I can do. I'll ask my elves what they think.'

The boy skipped off to his parents.

Daddy gently took Jack by the arm to Father Christmas, and whispered, 'Go on Jack tell Father Christmas what you'd like'

Before Jack could do anything he was sitting on Father Christmas's lap. Their faces were very close. He had crinkly blue eyes that smiled and shone like Grandpa's, he looked like ... a person. Father Christmas was a person.  He smiled at Jack,

'What would you like for Christmas little fellow?'

Jack whispered in his ear, he didn't want the other people in the queue to hear,

Father Christmas threw back his head and laughed, 'Ho Ho Ho.' It was a wonderful sound, a joyous sound. 

'Oh Jack that's the smartest present I've been asked for this year, maybe ever.'

The people in the queue were all smiling, Daddy and Mummy were smiling, Lucy ran towards him and threw her arms round him. 

Later that evening when Daddy had finished reading his bedtime story and turned off the light Daddy stroked his hair and whispered, 

'What did you ask Father Christmas for Jack? I know it's meant to be a secret and I won't tell anyone, only Mummy.'

Jack put his arms round Daddy's neck,he liked the roughness of his cheek and his warm daddy smell.

He felt safe, he felt good, 

'I asked for a Superman outfit so I can be Lucy's Superhero,.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Power of a Story

 Hello everyone, thank you for reading my stories. I just wanted to write a post about why I like writing stories. I love reading stories and I love listening to other people's stories and I love stories. We all do, it's the natural language of the brain. Stories can be used to tell the truth, to tell life lessons, to let the imagination soar, to take you to another place and time. 

Here in my short story blog I hope you will find comfort and reassurance, joy in life and warmth, I hope you will find inspiration to live a happy life and that reading my stories will make you feel as though you have been with a friend, a coffee break or afternoon tea with a friend.

Children love a bedtime story, it wraps up the day, it's a message that you want to be with them, no matter how busy your day make time for a bedtime story with your children, make one up using people and toys that they know, make them laugh, make them feel safe and loved.

As your children grow up keep on telling them stories, help them to choose good stories to read.

I hope you will enjoy my stories.

 

A Lifetime of Love

The gladioli in the centre of the table were obscuring his view. Harry peered round them and  Mollie, his wife, lifted her gaze and smiled at him, Her eyes twinkled at him and his heart gave a little lift as it always did, as it had been doing for almost sixty years. Their granddaughter Anna lifted up one of his wife's hands and gently held it towards him,

 

'What do you think Grandpa ? Do you like the colour? '

 

Mollie beamed at him looking for approval. Anna had painted her grandmother's nails pink with gold tips.

 

Harry nodded and grinned.  Today was the big event. He was slowly getting used to the idea of having a party for their Golden Wedding anniversary. His daughter Lizzie and his granddaughter Anna had been so busy with the preparations, they talked about nothing else. For weeks now they had been on their phones and looking at magazines and the house was strewn with fifty years worth of photographs.

Lizzie and Anna were very prouid of the album they had created spanning the fifty years of Harry and Mollie's marriage.

 

The kettle whistled and Mollie looked up as Lizzie rushed into the kitchen,

 

'Sorry everyone, just been on the phone to the restaurant, everything is ready, just the final touches, what do you think of gold balloons? or red?'

 

Lizzie bustled about opening cupboards and setting out cups on a tray. She grabbed the biscuit barrel and shoved some chocolate biscuits on a plate. Then she handed round the coffee and put Harry's in front of him. She munched on two biscuits at the same time. Harry took a few sips of coffee then turned to his daughter.

 

He nodded at the biscuits,

 

'You'll get tubby.'

 

Lizzie giggled

 

'Thanks for the future tense Dad,' but she put the biscuits down and turned her attention to the notepad in front of her.

 

'Right let's see, I'll run through the list and tell you who is definitely coming.'

Lizzie pulled her long blonde hair up and wound it into a pony tail. She looked up at her father through her fringe, her face eager and intense. He could see so much of himself in her, the passion and enthusiasm and love of family. Her brow furrowed.

 

'Ok dad, apart from Auntie Susan and Uncle Simon  there are quite a few others who were actually at the wedding.'

 

She  read out the names from the list. At the mention of some of them he rolled his eyes.

 

'Haven't seen him for years, goodness me is he still around? Did you say Bill? Bill Meekes? '

Harry thought about the last time he had seen Bill. It wasn't long after Mollie's diagnosis. The doctor had said it wasn't life threatening but her quality of life would be very limited. She would be in a wheelchair within years. There was a still a lot of research going on, if she was lucky. Harry's world had fallen apart. His beautiful wife with her pretty face and sweet nature. Damn the war, damn all the pain she'd been through. He hadn't known who to turn to. In the end he had confided in Bill, they had been at school together and he had considered him his best friend. On hearing the news Bill had merely shrugged and mumbled a few platitudes then he'd said almost casually, 

 

'She'll end up in a home.'

 

Harry still felt his blood boil at the memory. His immediate reaction was to say to himself, 'Over my dead body.'

He had watched his wife stumble into the room and vowed there and then that she would never go into a home, she would always be in her own home. 

Mollie had saved his life once and now he would save hers.

All those years when he had been stuck in the Middle East, her letters had kept him sane. 

They had fallen in love when Mollie was just fifteen and Harry was eighteen, racing round the country lanes on his motorbike and throwing all his enthusiasm into his work as a mechanic, without a care in the world except for winning her heart.

Then the war had come and shattered their plans. For six years he had been away from home. 

Mollie's letters had kept him going, a life line and a link to his home. Mollie wrote of bike rides, bluebell woods, beech woods and of how much she loved him and was waiting for the day he came home and how much she longed to hold him.

No, she would never go into a home. 

He looked across at her.

Lizzie was speaking again, 'Bill said he'll make a speech about all the bike rides you went on together.'

Harry sighed, ' Bike rides.' He looked across at Mollie and smiled.

'We can go on bike rides whenever we want can't we Mollie, just close our eyes and off we go around the country lanes.'

'Lizzie did you say Cyril was coming? He never liked putting his hand in his pocket. Lost count of how many times he left me to the bill. He fancied your mum he did, but she liked me. I remember playing sardines and he tried to shove me out of the cupboard but I got her.' 

 

He winked across the table at Mollie.

Mollie giggled spilling some of her coffee which Anna gently wiped up.

.

'Okay Grandma, I've finished now, I'll just fix your make up and you’re ready to go.'

Anna blew gently on the nails and touched them to see if they were dry.

 

The sun shone into the kitchen wrapping a golden ribbon around Anna and Mollie.

Harry and Lizzie looked at each other and smiled, their eyes glistening. The similarity between grandmother and granddaughter was evident, they shone with love for each other, both had the same love of life, of art and music, both had the same kind gentle manner and only saw the good in people.

 

The doorbell rang making them jump and Lizzie called out 'Come in' and the two carers swept into the kitchen and took Mollie away in her wheelchair.

 

When she came out Anna did the finishing touches to her hair and sprayed her with Harry's favourite scent, the one he had been buying for her for nearly fifty years.

 

The taxi arrived and they all set off for the party.

 

Later that evening the sun was going down and they were gathered in the kitchen. Lizzie making tea and adding a drop of brandy. Mark her husband had joined them and asked to see the Golden Anniversary album.

 

Anna moved the enormous vase of gladioli and laid the album in the centre of the table so they could all see. She pointed to one of Bill with his arms round Harry and Mollie. 

'You can tell that Bill fancies you Mum. He couldn't take his eyes off you at the partty and when he said you were the prettiest then and you're the prettiest now, well I thought he was going to cry.'

Harry rolled his eyes, 'Well she was, she is, look at her.'

Mollie giggled and her face lit up as she gazed around the room, she turned to her son-in-law.

 

'What did you think of the speeches, Mark?'

 

Mark smiled across at his mother-in-law,

 

'The best man did well, I liked his descriptions of your holiday in Devon, all those bike rides. but my favourite speech was yours Mollie, the things you said about Harry, the way you looked at him,  I think everyone in that room went away better for having been there. You are amazing, both of you, and I feel so lucky to be your son-in-law.' 

 

Lizzie put her arms round her husband.

Anna jumped up and went to hug her grandfather,

 

'It's true, looking at you and grandma we know that true love exists, we know it lasts forever.'

 

Harry squeezed his granddaughter's hand and then slowly turned the pages of the album.

'Thank you for making this album and for this wonderful occasion. ' He looked across at Mollie, 'I do....' His voice caught and he struggled to fight the tears,

'It's only when you see the big picture, the whole picture,..'

 

The words that were left unspoken, the words that heal, that make life go on, love, trust, loyalty, hope, wrapped themselves around the family, the words pronounced years ago, the promises that were made and kept, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for better for worse, from this day forward,  they shone across the room and became the golden links of a chain held firmly by the anchor of Harry and Mollie's true love.

A Reason to Stay

As the plane taxied down the runway Linda felt her heart sink. She gazed out at the wet tarmac and as the plane lifted off the ground she took in the rolling countryside and struggled to fight the tears. She felt so confused as she watched her beloved countryside spread out below her. She could see the coastal path that she had trod every day of her childhood and make out the villages where she had spent her youth. A vast grey cloud was settling over her just like the mists which roll over the bay in Autumn.

A few hours before she had said goodbye to her family at the airport gate. She had looked closely to see a sign of regret at her parting, maybe a glistening in their eyes or even a 'we'll miss you'. They looked impatient to leave. Her sister-in-law talking about a dinner party, her mother wanting a cup of tea. Her father kept repeating 'Which cow pat did you tread in?' referring to her landing a job teaching English in an Iternational School. Her brother started to talk about the parking ticket.

The plane rose above the clouds and she was dazzled by the sun streaming through the window.

She closed her eyes and leant back in her seat trying to calm her jumbled emotions.

She felt happy, she felt sad, she felt excited, she felt scared, she felt lost and she also felt that somehow she was found. She was going to Italy to work in a school and be near the young man that she had fell in love with when she was seventeen. When he had asked her to marry him she was confused. How could she leave her family, her country, her life? Her parents had been so enthusiastic, this had confused her more. She thought they would have objected, wanted her to stay. Instead they were excited, they were going to live an adventure through her. They were so impressed with Sebastiano. He was handsome, his English was impeccable, he played the guitar, his father was a lawyer. Sebastiano was an accountant in an international firm. He had short hair. The remarks by Linda's father on this last quality were usually followed by 'unlike your usual long haired friends'. Her parents made plans, they were going to come and visit often, rent a villa by the sea, spend whole summers with Linda and Sebastiano, invite all their friends to tour Italy.

It hadn't turned out quite like that.

In those days telephone calls were costly and difficult, letters took weeks to arrive, charter flights were expensive and unreliable. Her parents health suffered, her brother and his wife had other things to do.She had to fight hard to stop her homesickness becoming melancholy. She had to keep on remembering how lost she had felt. The feeling of being lost is one you never forget.

Years later she had sent a card to one of her children, 'give your children roots to grow, wings to fly' were the printed words. She had added 'A reason to return.'

How she had suffered missing her family. It had never gone away. Her life had just grown around the pain of losing them. She'd read a book by a Canadian likening moving to another country as a death, a loss, you go into mourning, you have to find something to replace what you have lost and help yourself stop being melancholic.

The one thing that hadn't changed was her love for Sebastiano and his family.

His parents had welcomed her with open arms. they'd loved her from the start. They never stopped telling her how much they loved her. She was the daughter they had never had. They needed her, as the years went by, more and more.

A loud ring of the doorbell made Linda jump.  She hastily wiped her eyes and went to open the door.

Her daughter Emma burst in, followed by her three year old twin boys, Tommaso and Leonardo, who flung themselves at Linda, clinging onto her legs like little koala bears. Their eight year old sister, Sofia came up and gently prised them off and hugged her grandmother, leaning up to kiss her cheek. The boys rushed into the kitchen looking for Linda's secret supply of sweets. Emma asked Sofia to follow them and went to her mother.

She took in Linda's red eyes and sighed. 'Maybe I shouldn't have given you those boxes to sort out. They have been in the garage gathering dust and I thought you might like the chance to sort them out.  I tell you what we can do it together .' She paused and smiled at her mother and when she spoke her voice was full of warmth and kindness.

 

  ' I think we should all have a cup of tea'.

It was exactly what her own mother would have said and not for the first time Linda marvelled at how life could sometimes give you back precious things you had lost. There was so much of her mother in her daughter. All the good that had been in her mother she could see in her daughter.

Emma put her arm round her mother and pointed to the letters spread out on the bed. She spoke softly:

"Let's put them away for now. It's good to go down Memory Lane for a while, there's lots of happiness to be found there. You just have to take it easy and come back to the present every so often. Let's go to the kitchen now. The boys sound like they're getting out of hand. Sofia and I have made biscuits!"

Later, when they had left in a flurry of hugs and kisses, Linda gathered up the letters, which had brought back so many emotions and tied them with a ribbon . She sprayed them with some perfume and held them close for a moment next to her heart then she  went to the bedroom. There on the bedside table was a folded piece of paper with Sofia's name on it.. Linda unfolded it and felt her heart swell as she read, "I LOVE Grandma".

She heard her father's voice:

"Which cowpat did you step in?"

Actions, reactions, cause and effect

The doctor stared at her and looked as though he was going to say something but then bent his head and started to scribble on the pad in front of him. Valerie hunted in her bag for a dummy to try and stop the baby's grizzling. The doctor tore off a piece of paper and handed it to her with a sympathetic smile.

' There is nothing wrong from the tests, ' he tapped his head, 'It's in here. These pills should help.'

Valerie felt tears sting her eyes, relief flooded her that all was well with the tests, she started to babble,

 'You see the thing is I miss my mum, I feel so far from home, I feel … lost'

She looked at the doctor, he wasn't smiling any more. He stood up and moved towards the door.

'You're the mother now. You are responsible for a family. Come back in a month's time and we'll see.'

Valerie pushed the buggy out of the door. The baby started screaming, the people in the waiting room stared at her. She started shaking. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and walked towards the pharmacy. She handed the prescription to the young lady pharmacist, her long blonde hair glossy and her make up perfect.  Her white coat had a few buttons undone and her black lacy bra was clearly visible. She smiled at Valerie. 'Are you Steve's wife? I was at school with him. He's a handful isn't he? Tell him Jenny sends her love.'

The baby screamed and Valerie bent down to her, glad of the chance to hide her face.

'There there Emma, we're going home now.'

'Just one thing', Jenny was still talking, 'Have you stopped breast feeding? You can't take these if you're breastfeeding.'

Valerie shook her head. Another one of her failings. Emma had been such a fretful feeder, yelling and turning her head away, clawing at Valerie''s breast. What she had been looking forward to as a sensual experience, had turned into a nightmare. Steve had insisted that she change to bottle feeding, he couldn't stand it, the broken nights, the endless feeds. The bottle feeding hadn't made much difference to the endless crying but at least she could tell if Emma had had enough.

By the time they arrived home Emma had cried herself to sleep and Valerie decided to leave her in the buggy while she tidied up. Just as she was about to make the bed her phone rang. It was her mum.

'Hello darling what did the doctor say? How is my gorgeous little granddaughter?' and she was off, telling Valerie all about her Bridge club, Pilates, Book club and how marvellous Valerie's sister and brother-in-law were, always inviting her to meals and checking she was alright. She paused, 'sorry darling what did you say about the doctor?'

Valerie smiled to herself, she knew her mother meant well,

'Everything is alright mum, he gave me some pills, I'm not sure what they are for, I've only just come home.'

Her mother sighed, 'Oh thank goodness! You must look after yourself, as well as your handsome husband and beautiful baby. Remember what I said about always running to the door to greet him and wearing lipstick. Your father never looked at another woman once. Speak soon, lots of love.'

Valerie went to the bedroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She moved her hair away from her face and winced at the pain. There was sat down on the unmade bed and took out the pills that the doctor had prescribed.

The conversation with her mother had released some of the tension that seemed to lay permanently within her. When she and Steve had lived in London they were able to go and see her mother and sister quite often and easily. They had moved to the town in Norfolk where Steve had grown up because his father wanted him to take over his business. Valerie was planning to go back to work when Emma was at nursery school. While she was pregnant life had been fun. She had enjoyed getting to know Steve's family and friends.

Since the birth though things were ver different. The journey to Berkshire had become impossible. Last time six hours with Emma crying constantly. Steve worked longer and longer hours. Worst of all was an aggressive side to his nature that she had never seen. His language had become vile and yesterday he had hit her. Too stunned to speak she had grabbed Emma and slept on the floor beside her cot.

She pulled out the sheet from the medicine box and started to read it. She was astonished to see the words bipolar, depression, extreme anxiety, she carried on reading the side effects. Surely the doctor couldn't think she needed this, he hardly knew her.

Maybe the violence in Steve was all her fault, maybe she wasn't good enough for him.

Just then she heard Steve's key in the door. He swore as he kicked the buggy, which woke Emma, who started screaming. He marched into the bedroom.

His eyes swept round the room taking in the unmade bed, and glared at Valerie and spat out the words 'What a mess! What a tip!' his top lip curled. His voice rose to a high pitch. 'What have you been doing all day. Chatting to mummy who you miss so much?'

Valery gripped the bottle of pills in her hand. She held her head high and walked passed him into the bathroom. She locked the door. She looked at her self in the mirror and opened the bottle of pills. 

Steve pounded on the door. Valery looked at her reflection in the mirror and heard her father's last words 'Live a good life Valery. Live for me'. In one movement she tipped the pills down the sink. 

She opened the door. Steve stumbled into her. When she spoke her voice was calm 'Please go in the kitchen and lay the table. I'll order us a pizza".

She picked Emma out of the buggy and giggled her up and down to stop her crying. The baby burst into a joyful giggle. Steve's mouth opened wide and his face broke into a grin. He looked like the man she had fallen in love with. 'Emma, your first laugh!" He said in a gentle voice. 

Valery held her breath. She would go back to the doctor tomorrow.  

 

Cronache del Covid

Certi eventi rimangono per sempre nella vita, come dov'eravamo quando era morto Kennedy, dove eravamo quando c'era l'attacco alle torre gemelle, quando era morta la principessa Diana dipende dall'età della persona. Quest'anno purtroppo c'è da aggiungere dove eravamo quando ci siamo resi conto quanto era vicino a noi il terrore del Covid 19.
Era una Domenica, 8 Marzo, la festa della donna. Fino ad allora sapevamo che era una minaccia. Siamo rimasti commossi a vedere immagine della citta di Wuhan, tutti in casa a cercare fermare il virus e a festeggiare l' anno nuovo cinese. C'immedesimavamo, cosa faremo noi chiuso in casa per evitare un virus cosi terribile?

I nostri amici sono venuti a trovarci in Febbraio dall' Inghilterra. Al aeroporto di Venezia sono rimasti sorpresi perché gli hanno provato la temperatura. Si percepivano i primi segni dell'allarme.

Parlavamo solo del virus: da dove era venuto, dove stava andando, come avremmo potuto protegger noi stessi e i nostri cari.

Siamo andati con i nostri amici a Venezia, citta magica sempre. Non c'era quasi nessuno. Siamo arrivati in Piazza S. Marco meravigliandoci per l'aspetto di questa citta di solito affollata per il Carnevale, invece quasi vuota. Abbiamo visto che potevamo entrare gratis e senza coda ad ammirare la pala d'oro, eravamo a bocca aperta davanti a questa bellezza. La minaccia del virus sembrava ancora lontana.

Il Carnevale è un grande evento per Venezia e, in generale, per i bambini italiani. Dopo un po' le notizie ci dicevano che i bambini non tornavano a scuola, il virus era entrato in Italia. C'erano zone rosse. Un leggero senso di panico andava tenuta a bada.

L'ultimo di Carnevale abbiamo invitati gli amici a casa, abbiamo aperto una bottiglia di vino di Vo', con il bel nome di Fiori d'Arancio.
Sembrava tutto innocente, ridevamo un po' ma eravamo inquieti.
Non andavamo più al supermercato, evitavamo luoghi affollati, stavamo lontani dai nostri nipotini.
Per la Festa Della Donna. nella nostra famiglia, ci piace stare insieme, ci piace stare intorno al tavolo e mangiare e chiacchierare. Siamo stati invitati in sei a festeggiare a stare insieme, chiacchierare e cercare di capire cosa dovevamo fare per proteggere noi stessi e gli altri.

Arriva una telefonata di un'amica. Il nostro ospite mette giù il telefono con il viso preoccupato.

'La Gabri ha detto che siamo in sei, siamo in troppi.'

Ecco questo era l'inizio del nostro percorso.

Ognuno è tornato a casa propria e da quel momento abbiamo fatto tre mesi diversi, molto diversi dalla normalità.

Subito ci siamo posti la questione di mantenere un equilibrio di salute mentale, fisico e spirituale.

Umorismo, amore e calma erano le nostre armi. Non c'era bisogno di un virus per insegnarci le cose importante della vita, non alla nostra età. Sapevamo che la famiglia, le amicizie, la salute erano i bene più preziosi.

Sapevamo che era una situazione terribile, paurosa, che tanta gente soffriva. Abbiamo visto immagini strazianti alla televisione , abbiamo deciso di non guardarla troppo, giusto per informaci e per rispetto per chi soffriva e lottava.

Essendo gli anziani cercavamo di tirare su gli altri, di dare coraggio, cantare, ballare, ridere, ma senza essere superficiali.

Da subito abbiamo sentito storie di grande coraggio e generosità e bravura. Tutti gli addetti della Sanità sono stati meravigliosi. Gli inseganti si sono dati da fare in modo commuovente con cuore e affetto. Da tutte le categorie promanava un senso di solidarietà.

Sappiamo di persone che ogni giorno portavamo vestiti, pannolini, latte a famiglie in difficolta, ma lo facevano già anche prima, non c'era bisogno del virus per certe persone per essere altruiste.

Anche i negozianti sono stati di grande aiuto, portavano a casa tutto, anche il pranzo dell Domenica per fare festa lo stesso, i fiorai portavano fiori per i compleanni, le pasticceria portano dolci per gli anniversari. Le parrucchiere portavano i loro prodotti, cosi per coprire il grigio dei capelli e anche delle giornate.

La primavera avanza come sempre, gli uccellini cantano, i fiori sbocciano, il cucù torna da Africa e ripete il suo verso inconfondibile.

Abbiamo scoperto come usare Zoom, Skype, WhatsApp per parlare con amici e parenti, e abbiamo fatto appuntamenti per caffe e aperitivi. Siamo stati uniti, ci vogliamo bene, abbiamo bisogno l'uno dell'altro. Ma questo lo sapevamo già, lo sapevamo già.

I gruppi WhatsApp si sono riempiti di video divertenti e spiritosi creando l'occasione, durante il video-caffe, di ringraziare chi ha cercato di portaci buon umore.

Si diceva più spesso, 'ti voglio tanto bene' a fratelli, figli, amici.

C'era chi aveva ansia, chi paura, chi non si pensava neanche al virus, chi diceva che è tutto una montatura. C'è chi ingrassa, chi dimagrisce.
C'è chi leggeva, chi lavorava a maglia, chi faceva il corso di meditazione, chi pensava a come aiutare gli altri.

C'è chi come me faceva tante torte perché da sempre fare una torta era mio modo di fare sparire la malinconia. Pesare gli ingredienti, burro, zucchero, uova, farina. battere bene tutto e riempire la casa di profumi era un modo di alzare i morale, solo che in due ingrassavo troppo e allora ho smesso.

Ora possiamo uscire, ma con cautela, rispettando nuove norme per poter stare di nuovo insieme.

Gl'Italiani sono un popolo noto a tutti per il calore e l'affetto. Non è stato facile rinunciare a tutto le manifestazioni per mesi: niente baci, abbracci, strette di mano.

E' strano veder un'amica e fare solo un saluto con la mano, ma è tanto tanto bello poterla comunque vedere.

Finding a daughter, finding a family

It was market day in the lively Mediterranean town and the Bar Marché was crowded. Alessandro waited in the shade of the beautiful plane tree until he saw a family getting ready to leave. He swooped in and called to Anna who was at a nearby stall holding up a pair of minute shorts and grinning at him as he rolled his eyes and slumped down in the recently vacated seat. She quickly paid for the shorts and rushed to join him, she gave him a quick hug and sat down.

'Well done for getting this table. It's so busy, I can't believe it, in this heat, but wow, what a great market, look at all the things I've bought.?

She pulled out what looked like a whole wardrobe of summer clothes from her bag. Bright colours to suit her golden skin and glossy dark hair. Everything looked very skimpy and he bit his tongue to stop himself from ruining her obvious pleasure in her purchases.
Alessandro saw the waiter studying him and knew what he was thinking straight away.
An  older man, a sugar daddy for a pretty young girl.
Up until a few months ago he would have been right, but the attractive young woman sitting next to him was his daughter this time, not his latest conquest.

Earlier in the year in the spring, Alessandro had had a wake up call, a slight heart attack.
The doctor had told him not to worry. He just needed to make some life style changes. Exercise  more, give up smoking and eat more healthily.
He was frightened though. He had never thought about his health before. He had sailed through life without so much as a cold.
He loved fine wines and Michelin starred restaurants.
Now to be told that he had  to slow down was a bit of a shock.
He had started to reflect on his life, on what really mattered to him. He had pleaded with his ex-wife Francesca to help him mend the rift that had appeared when he walked out on them both when Anna was only seven years old.

The waiter came to take their orders, giving Alessandro a sly glance. Anna beamed up at the waiter,

'I would like a tonic water please with lots of ice and lemon. What about you papà? No alcohol, remember what the doctor said.'

Alessandro relaxed back in his seat at the way she had said papà. A warm sensation came over him and he grinned at the waiter.

'I will have the same as my daughter, thanks'

The waiter moved away looking a bit chastened and Alessandro put his hand on his daughter's arm. She turned to him and looked serious,

'Papà, thank you for bringing me on this trip. It's wonderful to have you as my father. Mamma's new husband tries hard and he is very kind but, well, he's not you. You know I think it's important that you know, mamma has never said a bad word against you, ever.'

Alessandro turned away so she wouldn't see the tears that were threatening to fall. A lump came to his throat. Anna was still talking,

'It was me that didn't want to see you, I thought what sort of man leaves his daughter? I thought you didn't love me. I thought you didn't love mamma.'

She stopped and it sounded like she was struggling with tears too.

'Anyway', she went on, brightening and clearing her throat as their drinks arrived,

'I am so glad she persuaded me to let you back in my life'

Anna lifted up her drink and looked her father in the eyes,

'Salute papà'

Hope and joy were in his voice as he replied with feeling,

'Salute, indeed, my dear daughter,'

As he watched her gulp back her drink he thought of why he had fallen in love with Francesca. They both had the same enthusiasm, passion and joyful attitude to life.
He asked himself, not for the first time, why it hadn't lasted.

 Francesca had a new husband now and two small boys, any bitterness had healed now.
 Anna was studying Archeology at the University in Rome. It was Francesca who had suggested a trip together. She had said that driving along together in a car was the best way to have a conversation that could become emotional.
Alessandro had planned a route going from Rome round to Arles, Orange, Nimes and the Pont du Gard. They had stopped at the small town of Frèjus for the night and  had been busy learning about its Roman history.

Where they were sitting in the market place had once been by the sea, a Roman port. Last night they had been to a show at the Arena . They had both laughed so much at the Toro Piscine and wandered what the Ancient Romans would have thought of that.

He had never enjoyed female company so much. They had so much to say to each other, he found everything Anna said fascinating. They were interested in all the same things. She hung on his every word as he told her all he knew about the Romans.  Today they had seen the columns of the forum and been round a museum with a floor map showing the Roman port. Everything was protected and displayed with loving care.

Anna  nudged him,

'You look faraway papà. I was asking you what you thought of me applying to study here or maybe better in Italy where we have so much art?'

 Alessandro was thoughtful as he  reflected on all the treasures in Italy. Something like eighty per cent of the World's Art treasures were supposedly to be found there. No wonder Italians sometimes seemed complacent. They were surrounded every day by all this beauty. they couldn't dig a hole without finding some hidden treasure .Just to build a car park near his apartment had taken years, with all the bureaucracy involved when the workmen had found some old Roman toilet thing. The pizzeria round the corner from his office had a Roman bath carefully restored and displayed under a glass floor. . It was probably just as well that the French had the Mona Lisa. The queues to get in the Uffizi or the Gallerie Vaticane were long enough as it was.

Some young men walked past the table and glanced at Anna. He recognized the look, it was one he had often given a young girl and he knew what the young men were thinking and felt a burst of anger.

Alessandro had always been a womanizer, he couldn't help it. One woman alone had never been enough. He had always been drawn to a short skirt or a cleavage. He loved being close to a woman's softness and scent, but in the morning he liked to wake up alone.
The only woman he had really loved was Francesca, but even she had worn him down. All that nagging and the rules. No smoking in the house, no outdoor shoes in the bedrooms. All the questions when he was late. It had seemed better just to walk away.

He hadn't realized he was giving up so much, giving up a family.
He sighed, Anna was still talking.
Anna was telling him about her Tesi di Laurea. She had thought of a title and just needed her Professor's approval.

She put her hand on his arm, an enraptured look on her face,

'Guess what papà? It's going to be inspired by our trip.'

He looked at her lovely  face and' a strange sensation came over him.

It's all going to be alright, papa,'she looked into his eyes.'You're going to be fine'.

He put his arm round her and drew her close breathing in the perfume of her freshly washed hair.f He had loved doing that when she was a little girl.

 He thought of all the bath times and bedtime stories he had missed. He thought of the family he had lost and now found again. He took out some notes and put them on the table for the waiter.
He stood up and held out his hand to Anna, a feeling of deep gratitude came over him, he had been given a second chance.

Waiting for a sign

The loud 'chacker chacker' sound from outside the window woke Paul with a start. He turned his head to look at the time, it was only 6 am. Damn magpie, he hated the noise it made. He put his arm out to feel for Katie and was surprised to feel an empty space. It wasn't like her to get up first, she liked to wait for him to make the tea. The bedroom was still quite dark due to the blackout blinds they had had installed. 'Chacker, chacker', the noise was even louder now.

Paul and Katie had watched the magpie build its nest on the pylon outside their house all Spring. It had taken a while to build. Katie had taken his hand one day and whispered, 'maybe it's a sign. It will be our turn next'.

Paul had tried to squash down a sense of foreboding and the rhyme from his childhood about magpies, One for sorrow, two for joy.' They had only ever seen the one magpie.
He heard some noises from the bathroom and what sounded like sobs. He had a sick feeling in his stomach. It had happened often in the last year. Last spring they had decided to start a family, 'trying for a baby' was what Katie had said. It sounded terrible to him then and it still did. It had taken all the romance out of their relationship.

He felt himself drifting back to sleep and in his half awake state could hear his mother's voice. 'Never forget to salute the magpie or you'll have bad luck.' Unbeknown to Katie he had been doing just that all spring.

Paul had grown up with his Irish mother, Derval, who believed strongly in superstitions, in the little people and the rest. If her left hand itched she knew she was going to have money.  If she spilt the salt she would throw some over her shoulder to hit the devil in the eye. Once Paul had broken a mirror and she had wept all day at the thought of seven years bad luck and still blamed it on the fact that he hadn't married Patty O' Carroll but instead an English girl.

His mother would never admit it but she adored Katie and loved coming to stay with them. When his mother had come at Christmas Katie had really enjoyed hearing all about the little people and the traditions passed down from Derval's grandparents and great grandparents.  On New Year's Eve Derval had made Paul cross the threshold with bread in one hand and coal in the other and on Twelfth Night all the decorations had been taken down and packed away. Paul shivered as he remembered the moment they had kissed and drunk to each other with champagne and both made the silent wish, 'This time next year there will be three of us.' They had thought it would be easy. It wasn't. The last time, the doctor had told them all the things they could do. That's when the magpie had started building its nest, almost like it wanted to taunt them.

Paul shook himself awake, maybe he should go and make the tea and try and console Katie.

They both had lessons later in the morning.

Probably because of his mother and her belief in omens and signs Paul had studied Maths and went on to take a PhD and was now professor at the university.
Maths never let you down, he always thought. You knew where you were. It was easy to mark essays and papers because it was a question of right or wrong. There was no room for opinions or points of view, or emotions of funny ideas. He was quite the opposite of Katie who taught Art and believed in expression and imagination.

There was a lot of noise from outside the window. Paul went to pull up the blind. He stared in amazement at the commotion going on around the pylon. There were two magpies flapping around the nest. At the same time the door was flung open and Katie appeared in the doorway. He turned round and saw she was holding the tray with their mugs of tea. Her face was tearstained and her eyes were red but she was radiant, beaming and seemed to be almost laughing. She put the tray down and ran to the window to hug him waving the now familiar white stick and kissed him, her face wet with tears,

'Hey Maths teacher, what do you say? One plus one makes three, sometimes.'

As he stared at the result on the pregnancy test, realisation dawned on him and he held her tight and pointed to the nest. When he spoke his voice was thick with emotion.

'And one for sorrow but two for joy.'

Katie giggled and touched his lips. She grinned,

'Three for a girl, four for a boy ...'



'

Don't let them smell your fear

It was the first day of the new term and the September sun shone bright into the classroom.  The children were all listening to the headmistress Mrs Taggersall telling them about the new swimming pool that had been built by the Lion's club. Sally admired her new shoes under the desk, twisting them to the right and then to the left. Sally loved the first day of term, seeing all her friends after the long summer holiday, the new exercise books, the smell of her new satchel. It wasn't really new, it was her brother Richard's. He had given it to her because he had a brand new one for all the books he had to carry now he was studying for his O levels. Sally took the invitations to her party out of her pocket. Mummy had given her enough for all the class and an extra one in case there was anyone new. The weather was so lovely that they were going to have the party in the garden and Richard was going to help with the games and bring them all ice creams.

Her name was called 'Sally Bates', making her jump. She looked at the teacher Mrs. King trying to keep a straight face. Daddy was always telling her off for giggling.

Mrs King was smiling at her.

'Sally you have been chosen to be the janitor for Table 4 of the infants This means you will supervise their lunch and make sure they all file out through the gate at home time.'


Sally stifled a giggle. In charge of the infants. It sounded so important. Richard would be amazed. She couldn't wait to tell him. He was a prefect and very bossy, no doubt he would think it ridiculous that she should be in charge of anything let alone small children. He still blamed her for letting the hamster out of the cage and never be seen again.

At lunchtime Sally handed out the invitations to her party and then went to the dining room to sit at her table with the infants. They were all chattering away and playing with the cutlery. She cleared her throat and looked at them the way Richard looked at her when he was cross. They stopped immediately and stared at her.

'Hello everyone my name is Sally. I am your Janitor. 'She paused, some of the girls had started to giggle.
'Let's play a game shall we' Let's pretend that we've been invited to have lunch with the Queen and if we don't behave properly…. she'll chop off our heads.'

To her delight and surprise, they all laughed, a joyous happy sound that went through her like a beam of sunshine. Everyone except one little boy, he was smaller than the others, his head was bent down and he kept tugging at his sleeves, pulling them down over his hands.

The teacher called out
'Table 4' and Sally went to collect their trays.

There was mashed potato, peas and some sort of meat stew.

There were cries of 'ugh, I don't like that, I don't want that.'

Sally took the serving spoons and started with the  little boy on her right.
'Would you like mashed potato Sir, it's made with the finest butter and our very best potatoes. Also the peas are hand picked specially for school dinners and the stew is from our finest cattle.'

The little boy laughed,

'I'll have a little bit of everything please.

'Very well, the Queen will not chop off your head today.'

Sally went round the table improvising as she went trying to entertain them. They all responded with smiles and giggles except the little boy who just nodded and then started picking at his food with a fork.

When she sat down to have her own meal she addressed the table.

'You all know my name, now can I please learn yours?'

By turn the children called out their names, all except the little boy. She noticed his sleeves had ridden up and she could see vivid bruises on his wrists.

She called to him trying to sound like mummy did when she wanted to know what was wrong with Richard when he was in one of his moods.
'And you little fellow, can I please know your name, would you like me to try and guess''

'Yes' called out the girls, 'like Rumpelstiltskin!?

' Okay, I'll guess and if I get it right, extra pudding for me! I see it is chocolate sponge.'

The children turned to her expectantly, mischief all over their faces. She couldn't help grinning back at them they looked so sweet. She was determined to make the little boy smile too.

'Is it Matthew?

'Noo' they all called

Simon? James? Tim ? David? Philip? Richard? Rudolph?

At the mention of Rudolph they collapsed in helpless giggles.

Mrs King appeared and stood by Sally looking at the children,

'There is a lot of merriment at this table, may I join in.'

Sally felt herself go red, how embarrassing , she looked up at Mrs King.

'I am sorry Mrs King it's my fault, I was trying to guess the name of the little fellow in the red jumper.

She was surprised to see that Mrs King looked very sad and went round the able and lay her hand on the little boy's arm, she leant down and spoke gently,

'Come on Little Ray you can tell Sally your name?

A tear slid down the little boy's face, Sally felt terrible. The little boy next to her, Simon, called out,

'That's not fair, now she knows, she knows it's Ray!'

Sally smiled at him,

'It's alright it just means I won't have an extra piece of chocolate pudding, no harm done.'

As Mrs King moved away she squeezed Sally on the shoulder and whispered to her,

'Well done Sally, you are doing well.'

That made her feel a lot better and she looked at the children,

'Right let's see how good my memory is, she went round the table,
'Karen, Sharon, Paula, Dawn, Jeanette, Simon, Peter, Amanda, Stephen and Little Ray.'


'I think the Queen will invite you to lunch again tomorrow.'

As the children left the table to run into the playground she was rewarded with hugs and Simon stopped and looked at her his face serious,
'I like you' he said and her heart filled with joy.

At home time daddy had told her to go straight home on the bus if there was nobody waiting for her, mummy hadn't been feeling well and he would try and get home early.

The sun had gone in and there were dark clouds in the sky. She looked around and there was no sign of daddy so she hurried to the bus stop. She was surprised to see Little Ray waiting there, he seemed a bit young to go home on his own. The bus arrived and she got on giving the conductor her two pennies. Her friends Tracey and Michelle called out to come on the top deck, but something made her hesitate. She saw Little Ray sidle into a seat downstairs and she went to sit by him. He immediately pulled down his sleeves and turned to look out of the window.

The bus chugged up the hill and past the common. Sally loved playing on the common. There was an area with slides and swings and roundabouts and a little stream where she and Richard used to paddle, but her brother was too old for that now.

She turned to Little Ray'

' I am sorry that I didn't guess your name Ray, It's a lovely name, it makes me think of sunshine. Do you like Autumn Ray' I love Autumn, not only because it's my birthday, but I love the golden leaves and the conkers. Last week I went to the common with my brother and we found some lovely shiny conkers. Would you like to come and see them?

On an impulse she took the extra invitation out of her pocket.

'Tell you what here's an invitation to my party tomorrow. I'll be ten. Would you like to come?'

Little Ray didn't answer but he took the invitation and stuffed it in his pocket. She could see his face in the reflection in the glass and it looked like  he was trying to smile.

The bus stopped and Tracey and the other girls came clattering down the stairs, they waved at her as the bus set off again, calling out that they would come to her party.

There was only Ray and her left on the bus and when it stopped at the end of the common they both got off. There was nobody waiting for them. She could see the lights on in her house, mummy must be waiting for her making tea and jam tarts.

The bus driver called out,

'Go straight home Sally there's a storm on the way. '

She waved back and set off towards her house, but turned back and looked at Little Ray. He was pulling at his sleeves and looked even smaller.

'Would you like to come home with me Ray and then my daddy can take you home?'

The little boy ran towards her and grabbed hold of her hand.

He seemed to be sobbing as he spoke into her sleeve
'Can't angry, go home, mummy scared, '

She could just about make out the words and she didn't like them.

'Where do you live Little Ray, shall I take you home?'

Little Ray gripped her hand even tighter and nodded vigorously.

'Where do you live'

Little Ray pointed towards the lane, the long dark lane that lead away from the common and the village and towards dark woods and farm cottages. Sally had only been down that lane once, Richard had frightened her and told her bad people were down there and witches.

She looked at the sky, it was going to rain. Surely it wouldn't take her long she could take him home and then run back, she was good at running. She'd come first last year at Sports Day.

Little Ray was holding her hand so tight she couldn't feel it anymore.

She bent down and looked him in the eyes,

'I'll come with you and take you home and then another day we can ask if you can come to my house for tea ok?

He nodded and wiped at his grimy face.

They set off down the lane walking quickly. It was very dark and overhung with trees. At the end there was a gate into a farm yard and Little Ray pulled her in. She stopped as she noticed a Rottweiler watching them. It was snarling and she heard a low growl. It stood up and its chain rattled.  Richard had told her that dogs can tell if you are afraid and so  she breathed in slowly and said to herself over again 'I am not afraid, I am not afraid'.

'Little Ray cowered away from the dog who was still growling,

'That's Saber, he's our guard dog, but I'm scared of him, he killed our kitten.'

The door to the cottage opened with a bang. A large man wearing a dirty vest that looked like underwear with an overhanging stomach and stubble on his face stepped out and glared at them, He looked like Desperate Dan from one of Richard's comics and Sally wanted to giggle but something told her that would not be a good idea.

The man stepped towards them and Saber started barking,

'Who are you? what do you want, what are you doing with him?

Sally felt like running but Saber looked terrifying and the man smelt funny like the drinks daddy had at Christmas but not nice and Little Ray was still gripping her hand.

'I'm Sally and I've brought Ray home because, well because, we were on our own and I want to invite him to tea one day and we have jam tarts.'

The man threw back his head and laughed, but not a happy laugh, it was really quite a frightening laugh like an old witch.

He called back into the house,

'Come and hear this you old crow. Sally has invited Ray to tea and there's going to be tarts

Something about the way the man said, 'Sally,' 'tea' and 'tarts', frightened Sally to the core of her being. She had to think quickly.

'My dad is waiting for me' , She pointed with her head to the gate,

'He's waiting, he told me to be quick, I just brought Ray home.'

She was relieved to see that at the mention of her dad the man calmed down a bit.

A little woman appeared at the doorway, she had dirty blonde hair and was wearing what looked like an old petticoat. A cigarette was dangling from her thin fingers and she looked like a puff of wind would blow her way, but when Little Ray saw her he let go of Sally's hand and ran towards her,

'Mummy, you're better'.

The woman  took a deep drag on her cigarette and then hugged Little Ray blowing the smoke all over his head.

The man took a step towards Sally, he was very big. She stepped back.

'Don't let him smell the fear.' she repeated over and over again.

'Sorry I have to go, dad is waiting, I hope Ray can come to my party. '

Then with one eye on Saber and one eye on the man she stepped backwards all the way to the gate.

She turned into the lane and ran like the wind. She thought she could hear Saber coming after her but she ran and ran. The rain was falling now and then she saw a light at the end of the lane. It looked like the Dynamo on Richard's new bike.

It was Richard's voice, and he sounded so worried, it almost made her want to laugh but instead she threw herself upon him and burst into tears. She couldn't stop crying.

Richard hugged her and then said in his normal voice,

'You stupid girl I've been looking everywhere for you. Mum saw you get off the bus and then you disappeared. Here, you can ride on my crossbar, let's get you home. Just don't wriggle about like you normally do.'

As they neared their house and she could see the lights and mummy waiting at the door and then thought of Little Ray going home to his house, she thought how the most wonderful thing in the whole world will always be going home to her family.

She got off the bike and hugged her brother,

'I love you Richard, thank you for coming to get me.'

Richard bent down to unclip his bicycle clips,

'You stupid girl don't ever do that again, but yeah I love you too.'

The next day at school Sally was greeted by cries of 'Happy birthday from all her class and at lunchtime as she sat down with her infants they all sang happy birthday, but she was dismayed that there was no sign of Little Ray.
When Mrs King came by she asked her if she knew where he was.
Mrs. King pulled her to one side,

'It seems that Little Ray is going to live in one of the new houses on the council estate.  He'll live there with his mother and little sister and be properly looked after. The school was told that one pupils took him home and invited him to her party. It seems this encounter gave his mother the courage to start again.'

Mrs King smiled at Sally,

'You're a very brave and kind little girl Sally, it's a pleasure to have you in our school.'

Una catena d'amore

Emma si mosse verso suo marito e lo abbracciò. Inspirò profondamente mentre odorava il profumo del suo dopobarba. Lo aveva sempre usato da quando si erano incontrati per la prima volta trent'anni prima e non mancava mai di ricordarle quei primi baci inebrianti.

Allontanò la testa in modo da poterlo guardare negli occhi e sorridergli,
'Adesso vai, tesoro. Valeria ha detto che potrebbe passare più tardi.'

Federico la attirò verso di sé, la tenne stretta e le accarezzò i capelli. Poi fece un passo indietro, s'infilò la giacca e la baciò.

Quando parlò, la sua voce era piena di preoccupazione: 'Sei sicura che ti sentirai a tuo agio qui da sola?'

Emma aprì la porta e lo incoraggiò ad uscire, fece un grande respiro e un ampio sorriso:
'Andrà bene. Mi sento come se la mamma fosse ancora qui con me. La sua amorevole presenza sarà sempre in questa casa.'

Emma chiuse la porta dietro il marito e si diresse verso la camera da letto di sua madre. Lasciò che il suo sguardo vagasse per la stanza assaporando tutti i preziosi ricordi. Quante volte aveva trovato conforto in quel grande letto. Nel mezzo della notte, quando l'oscurità rendeva le sue paure così tremendamente vive, correva a rannicchiarsi accanto a sua madre per sentirsi al sicuro, e tutte le paure si dissolvevano.

Emma si diresse verso il letto con la sua grande testata di legno all'antica, ormai così fuori moda, che era stato testimone di così tanto nella loro vita familiare. Affondò la faccia nel cuscino come faceva da bambina ogni volta che sua madre andava a Siena per prendersi cura di sua madre Vittoria, la nonna di Emma. Mentre Emma inspirava il profumo di lavanda e rosa che sua madre aveva sempre addosso, lasciò che le lacrime arrivassero. Era una pena, ma allo stesso tempo un conforto. Emma era stata educata a non mostrare le sue emozioni, ad andare avanti e a mostrare un volto sicuro. Adesso però, le sue lacrime sembravano un omaggio, un saluto alla memoria di sua madre.

'O mamma, mamma, mi manchi tanto.'

Un raggio di sole splendeva attraverso la stanza. Sembrava un segno, come se un angelo le stesse mostrando cosa fare. Si inginocchiò e tirò fuori una cassetta di legno da sotto il letto dove l'aveva messa il giorno prima. Uno degli uomini del trasloco l'aveva trovata nascosta nella vecchia cantina.  Glie l'aveva aveva consegnata con grande rispetto, come se contenesse un tesoro nascosto. Sembrava che qualcuno avesse già tentato di aprirla. Non c'era chiave e avrebbe dovuto forzare il coperchio, in modo da poter vedere cosa c'era dentro. Tentò di immaginare cosa potesse contenere, forse alcuni gioielli o monete o medaglie.

Ansimò mentre forzava il coperchio. C'era un enorme mucchio di lettere accuratamente sistemate e legate in fasci con nastri rossi sbiaditi. Emma sollevò il primo dalla cassetta. La prima lettera era indirizzata a suo padre nella bella calligrafia di sua madre. Non sapeva cosa fare. Forse doveva chiedere a Federico e Valeria di venire ad aiutarla con la loro presenza.

Le sembrava di essere indiscreta. Sua madre era sempre stata piuttosto riservata e severa e non avrebbe mai approvato che Emma frugasse tra le sue cose. Era riluttante a leggere le lettere, eppure lo voleva, per sentirsi di nuovo parte della vita di sua madre. Si sentiva di essere la custode delle memorie di sua madre.

Emma non sapeva molto dei sentimenti più intimi di sua madre. Non avevano mai avuto chiacchierate intime e discussioni cuore a cuore. Il suo telefono suonò e lo guardò. Un messaggio di Valeria, "mamma ti voglio bene, se hai bisogno chiamami". Quanto era tutto diverso oggi. Premette it tasto di chiamata e apparve il bel viso di sua figlia.

'Ciao mamma' come va?'

Emma sorrise, cancellando le lacrime dal viso e sorrise a sua figlia,
'Oh Valeria tesoro, stavo pensando quanto sarebbe diverso oggi per mamma e papà. Sono cosi contenta di poterti vedere ogni girono. La mia nonna poi, cosa avrebbe dato per avere questa possibilità.'

Valeria sorrise, "Sì, è incredibile come sono cambiate le cose in così poco tempo. Ti lascio continuare, volevo solo essere sicura che stavi bene.

La telefonata l'aveva riportata al presente. Camminò per la stanza e toccò la coperta che sua madre teneva sulla sua poltrona preferita. Era lì che si sedeva nel pomeriggio, lavorando a maglia e facendo parole crociate, fino a quando la vista glielo aveva consentito. Un senso di tristezza scese su Emma e si sedette nella poltrona.

Provò a pensare alle storie che sua madre le aveva raccontato della sua giovinezza.

Le venne in mente un aneddoto che sua madre adorava raccontare. Un senso di calore l'avvolse quando ricordò sua madre che glielo raccontava, seduta proprio in quella poltrona.

Nell'estate del 1939, sua madre, Elisabetta, era andata in montagna sulle Dolomiti per una breve vacanza con i suoi due fratelli, Alberto ed Enrico. Lì avevano incontrato Toni, il futuro padre di Emma, ​​che alloggiava in un hotel chiamato "Paradiso". Toni era un giovane avvocato serio e tranquillo. Disse loro che era stato dimesso dall'esercito a causa della sua grave asma e il dottore gli aveva detto che l'aria di montagna gli avrebbe fatto bene. Fu presto evidente che provava grande piacere in compagnia di Elisabetta. La telefonava ogni giorno e ogni volta che telefonava al loro hotel per chiedere di parlarle, i fratelli di Elisabetta si divertivano a dirle ad alta voce,

'Betty, c'è una chiamata per te dal Paradiso!'

Quando giunse il momento per Elisabetta e i suoi fratelli di tornare a casa, Toni aveva già parlato di matrimonio e poco dopo era venuto a Siena per chiedere al padre di Elisabetta il permesso di sposare sua figlia. Toni ed Elisabetta si sposarono a Siena nel 1942 e si stabilirono nella città natale di Toni, nel nord Italia.

Emma sapeva che sua madre aveva sofferto durante la guerra, non era stata in grado di andare a Siena e per due anni non aveva potuto vedere la sua famiglia. La comunicazione era stata estremamente difficile.
Era tutto quello che sapeva.
La tentazione di leggere le lettere era troppo forte.

Emma andò in cucina a prepararsi una tazza di caffè. C'era il vecchio vaso di biscotti di porcellana a forma di elefante che Emma aveva amato da bambina. Tirò fuori un biscotto e se lo fregò contro le labbra pensando a sua madre che li comperava per lei, sapendo che erano il suoi preferit1.

Il suo telefono squillò di nuovo. Era Valeria.
'Mamma, continuo a pensare a nonna Elisabetta. Mi manca così tanto. Per favore, potresti cercare il suo ricettario? Mi piacerebbe imparare a fare le sue ricette speciali.'
A Emma venne un nodo alla gola. Sua madre era stata una cuoca così meravigliosa. Come le sarebbero mancate tutti quei felici pasti in famiglia.

Quando parlò, cercò di sembrare allegra e positiva. 'Che bella idea, Valeria, possiamo continuare tutte le tradizioni di Nonna!'
Emma tornò in camera da letto e prese la lettera in cima alla pila. Guardò verso la fotografia dei suoi genitori il giorno del loro matrimonio. Mandò loro un bacio.

"Perdonami mamma, se leggo le tue lettere personali a papà, ma voglio sentirti di nuovo vicino a me."

Aprì delicatamente la prima lettera. Era del 1942.

Caro Toni,
non passerà molto tempo prima che possa chiamarti mio marito, amore mio. Il solo pensiero di chiamarti così riempie il mio cuore di una gioia che non avrei mai saputo fosse possibile, stendermi accanto a te e svegliarmi al mattino ed essere in grado di baciarti sugli occhi e svegliarti, è un sogno in cui non ho mai osato sperare.
Alcuni altri regali di nozze sono arrivati ​​oggi. Un bel tappeto rosa per la camera da letto e una lampada di vetro. Non vedo l'ora di vedere il tuo caro viso illuminato dal suo bagliore e poggiare i piedi nudi sul morbido tappeto al mattino mentre scivolo via dalle tue braccia.


Emma si fermò e bevve il suo caffè. Il tappeto rosa era sotto i suoi piedi, assottigliato dagli anni. Cercò d'immaginare come doveva essere quando era nuovo. Si tolse le scarpe e ne sentì la morbidezza coi suoi piedi. C'era anche la lampada di vetro. Suo padre leggeva alla sua luce ogni sera. Emma si asciugò una lacrima e continuò a leggere.

Oh Toni, Alberto ed Enrico inviano i loro migliori saluti. Si divertono ancora a prendermi in giro perché tu vieni dal Paradiso! Fanno ridere tutti i loro amici, raccontandolo. Ma tu davvero vieni dal Paradiso, mio caro, davvero sei stato mandato dal paradiso. Per favore, dì alla tua cara mamma e tuo padre che tutto è organizzato qui per la loro sistemazione all'Hotel. Sono così impaziente di chiamarli mamma e papà. Mi hanno già mostrato tanta gentilezza. I miei genitori hanno organizzato una breve vacanza sulla costa toscana, dopo il matrimonio. Riesco a malapena a contenere la mia eccitazione al pensiero di vedere le tue amate montagne con te per la nostra luna di miele. Sei tanto caro. Vedere insieme, come marito e moglie, le montagne che ami tanto, sarà un'emozione oltre i miei sogni. Dici che c'è una montagna chiamata il Giardino delle Rose dove andremo, è un nome così romantico.

Emma dovette fermarsi. La lettera era così personale, così calda e piena d'amore per suo padre. Scoppiò in lacrime, con un dolore insondabile nel suo cuore, ma c'era anche un senso di felicità, sapendo che sua madre aveva provato un amore così intenso. Sapeva che i suoi genitori avevano trascorso la luna di miele nelle loro amate Dolomiti dove ogni estate continuarono ad andare per le loro vacanze in montagna. Suo padre sembrava sempre trovare sollievo lì dai tristi ricordi che lo perseguitavano dalla guerra in Etiopia.


Emma rimise la lettera al suo posto e poi prese il pacchetto più sotto. Anche queste lettere erano scritte nella familiare calligrafia di sua madre ma erano indirizzate a sua nonna Vittoria a Siena. Aprì la prima. Era del 1943.

Cara mamma,
sei sempre nei miei pensieri, insieme al caro babbo e ai miei cari fratelli. Com'è coraggioso Alberto a mettersi in tale pericolo. Per te, cara madre, deve essere così difficile rivivere ciò che tu stessa dovevi fare. Povero Enrico con la gamba rotta, ma almeno ti è vicino. Toni sta lavorando sodo ma ha dovuto trovare un nuovo collega di studio. Adesso ho una bicicletta ed è più facile per me trovare lussi come il burro. Ieri ho pedalato per trenta chilometri fino a una fattoria vicino alle montagne. Mi hanno dato burro, uova e della farina di mais che è così abbondante qui. Ho cercato di preparare la conserva di pomodoro, ma non è buona come la tua, cara mamma. Come mi mancano i sapori della tua cucina!

Emma posò la lettera. Chiuse gli occhi e pensò a sua madre in bicicletta. Tentò di leggere tra le righe della lettera. Sapeva che suo nonno Paolo era stato un medico militare durante la prima guerra mondiale. Sua nonna Vittoria, aveva viaggiato con lui e dato alla luce tre bambini mentre lo seguiva. Queste storie erano sempre state raccontate con umorismo e amore. Emma stava cominciando a capire che dono era stato sentire le donne in famiglia parlare in modo così rassicurante. Emma pensò a come doveva essere la vita allora. Pensò al suo amato paese. Le piaceva pensarlo come un elegante stivale in pelle con la punta che oscilla dolcemente nella brezza estiva. Sapeva che la prima guerra mondiale era una tragedia e le montagne vicino a casa sua portavano molte cicatrici. La seconda guerra mondiale era più difficile da capire. Leggere la lettera di sua madre le ricordava le cose che sua nonna le aveva detto. Amicizie furono distrutte e famiglie costrette a fuggire. L'Italia divenne un paese in guerra con se stesso. Sua nonna paterna, Marta, aveva sempre diffidato di esprimere qualsiasi punto di vista e disse a Emma di stare attenta, che si possono fare molti nemici parlando di politica. Emma pensava che fosse drammatica, ma anche adesso, dopo tutti questi anni, Federico evitava di parlare di politica.

Emma prese un'altra lettera indirizzata a sua nonna. Fece un sobbalzo quando notò la data, novembre 1948. Era quando era nata.

Cara mamma,
il mio caro tesoro sta dormendo ora, e così posso finalmente scriverti. Non riesco a trovare parole che siano all'altezza di descrivere la gioia nel mio cuore. È così bella e ha la natura più dolce e più cara. Le sue piccole mani già tengono le mie così strettamente. La sua testolina è così morbida e setosa. Ha i tuoi capelli scuri e oso dire i tuoi occhi blu. L'abbiamo chiamata Emma, ​​come la tua cara madre, che veniva da Venezia. Toni è incantato, si siede e la fissa per ore. Non passerà molto tempo prima che tu la veda di persona e possa tenerla tra le tue braccia. Fa dei piccoli dolcissimi vagiti. Oh mamma ora so come mi devi amare, so cosa devi provare per me. Ho pensato tanto a te che mi mettevi al mondo in questo paese durante la prima guerra mondiale, mi sento così felice di aver messo al mondo Emma in un paese in pace. Sono certa che questo deve essere l'inizio di una nuova era di speranza per tutti noi.

Le lacrime scorrevano sul viso di Emma, ​​singhiozzò nel cuscino di sua madre. Sentì il dolore profondo e straziante della sua perdita. Quando nacque Emma, ​​sua madre doveva aver capito il pieno potere dell'amore di una madre. Pensava all'amore che collegava le donne della sua famiglia, come una catena. Vittoria, Elisabetta, Emma, ​​Valeria. Donne italiane che risalgono al passato e proseguono verso il futuro unite dall'immenso potere dell'amore che le lega.

Andò a guardare fuori dalla finestra. Essere una donna, amare un uomo, essere una madre, amare un bambino, questo è ciò che ha tenuto insieme la società, è ciò che ha mantenuto il paese in salute.

Sobbalzò mentre il campanello suonava, interrompendo i suoi sogni ad occhi aperti. Era Federico, lì in piedi con un'enorme pizza e una bottiglia di vino. Il suo cuore sussultò mentre lo tendeva verso di lei. Le sorrise,

'Ho pensato ti sarebbe piaciuto.'

La baciò sulle guance umide di pianto.

'Oh Federico, grazie, grazie.'

Poi vide che Valeria e il suo ragazzo, Marco, erano in piedi dietro di lui con in mano una scatola di dolci della sua pasticceria preferita.

Più tardi, quando erano tutti seduti intorno al tavolo della cucina dove Elisabetta aveva preparato tanti deliziosi pranzi, il ragazzo di Valeria si alzò in piedi. Si schiarì la voce e alzò il bicchiere di vino, rivolgendosi a Emma:.

'So che questa è un'occasione triste, e vorrei che tu sapessi che privilegio è stato conoscere nonna Elisabetta. Anche a me mancherà terribilmente '.

Marco fece una pausa e si asciugò gli occhi. La sua voce era bassa e piena di emozione quando parlava, e le sue parole uscivano tutto d'un fiato.

'Non so se questo è il momento giusto, ma non vediamo l'ora di dirtelo. Valeria ed io aspettiamo un bambino.

Ci furono molte risate, abbracci e baci. Emma sentì l'amore di sua madre che la riscaldava. Sentì la sua presenza, tutto l'amore che sua madre le aveva donato ed era stato trasmesso a sua figlia, ora era in questa stanza.

Siena, Piazza del Campo e Torre del Mangia

 

Le Pale di S. Martino di Castrozza

TCWG short stories Journal 8

Hello everybody, I belong to a wonderful writing group and the leader has suggested that we write, to unite us all even more.

It's hard to write about horrible things for me, I have always a fan of happily ever after,, for everyone.

My brother has always been very wary of social media and thinks it's all very dodgy.
Even though skype has been around for awhile he's never been interested. He is quite happy with a landline conversation while we both sip a cup of tea and discretely bite biscuits and have a good old chinwag. We talk about everything, books, films, the state of the world, his art, our families, and hundreds of other things and of course our greatly loved parents. I love talking to him , I always have done, I admire him so much and ever since I can remember I have been inspired by him. If he read a book then I read it, if he listened to some music so did I. That way as a teenager I devoured Hemingway, Scott Fitzgerald, Lord of the Rings, all thanks to him. I listened to Led Zeppelin, Leonard Cohen, Cream all because of him. Left to my own devices I would probably have been stuck in a world of the Famous Five and Tamla Motown, but he broadened my horizons like nobody else.
I digress, I was thinking about my brother and social media.
On Sunday for British Mothers Day my son Facetimed me, while we were talking he then called my niece and lo and behold my brother appeared. He was very excited, he had discovered the good side of modern technology at last. He had been having a virtual lunch. When he saw us there was an initial panic about positioning the phone so as he didn't have a double chin, but once he was assured that it really didn't mater what we looked like he chattered happily and told us they were going to have Eton Mess, which made us all want to have some. For those who don't know Eton Mess is like a Pavlova, meringue, cream and raspberries and strawberries, in a mess.

After we had finished our conversation he sent me a text saying how much he had enjoyed it, how happy he was. My son managed to take photos of us while we were chatting, we look so happy, we were so happy, really really happy.

The Art of being a Good Neighbour

There was a knock at the door, so loud  that it made Barbara jump and knock over the bottle of nail varnish she had been using.  Before she had time to answer, the door was flung open and a voice called out 'Coo ee, it's only me,'  and her new neighbour Audrey burst in bringing with her a tantalizing waft of freshly baked apple pie. She plonked it on the table with a flourish and stood back grinning broadly.

'Et voilà ' she trilled, setting Barbara's nerves on edge.
She tried to hide her annoyance by blowing on her nails. Audrey leant over and picked up Barbara's right hand and inspected the nails one by one.

'OOH, lovely colour, my favourite. I love purple, it's great teamed with pale green, or violet, oh look they're not dry properly, I'll make the coffee, black with one sugar isn't it Barb'.

She turned round and put the kettle on and opened cupboards taking out mugs and setting everything out on a tray.
Barbara watched in amazement, her mouth hanging open, too stunned to speak.
She'd always been a reserved, shy person, and couldn't imagine having the confidence or nerve actually, she thought, to behave like Audrey in someone else's kitchen.

Audrey cut slices of the cake she'd brought round and put them on plates and then arranged everything in front of Barbara. All the time she kept up a constant prattle about what she'd seen on television, the recipe for the apple cake, how hard it had been for her to move, how all her things were in storage, how much she was looking forward to having a housewarming party, how she used to sing in a choir. She hardly paused to breath to gulp down some coffee and then gently touch each nail and then pronounced.

 'They are dry, you can drink your coffee now.'

Then she was gone in a flurry of air kisses and slamming the back door.

When her husband James came home Barbara exploded,

'That new neighbour is unbearable. I wish Mrs Browning was still there, you never heard a peep from her, it was so peaceful. Audrey has been in every day this week, sometimes twice a day, no sooner than I am home from work than she bursts in the back door without so much of an excuse me and helps herself to coffee and..'

James held up a hand to stop the torrent,

'Woah, woah, woah, This isn't like you Barbie, what's the poor woman done so awful? She brought a cake, she made you coffee.' he took a bite of the cake then paused, the cake crumbs falling onto his shirt, 'It's delicious, you should ask her for the recipe.'

In spite of herself Barbara laughed,
'You're right, I'm not being very friendly am I ? It's just she's divorced' her voice went very low and James couldn't catch the words, 'and extremely attractive ...'

She watched as James finished off the cake, a smile of satisfaction on his face, he stood up and hugged her,
'Anyway if it bothers you that much then just tell her to ring the front door bell.'

The next day when Barbara got home from work there was a letter from their daughter Kim from Australia, the envelope was bulky and she knew there would be photos and drawings by the grandchildren. She made a coffee and sat down ready to savour the contents of the envelope when there was the loud knocking and Audrey's shrill cry 'It's only me!'

Barbara stood up quickly scraping back the chair, 'Sit down Audrey, I'll make the coffee,'

 She turned to put the kettle on and spoke over her shoulder before she could change her mind.

'Audrey, I've been thinking, I'd prefer you to ring the front door bell than use the back door.'

There, she'd said it. She braced herself waiting for some retort from Audrey, some protest about how much friendlier it was to use the backdoor, but there was silence. She turned quickly round and for a moment she thought she saw tears glistening on Audrey's cheeks but when she spoke it was with her usual warmth and enthusiasm.

That evening while they were sitting on the sofa with their coffee and reading Kim's letter and admiring the grandchildren's drawings she told James what she'd done. He was silent for a long time, then stroked her hair and put his hand on hers.

'Look Barbara if that makes you feel better then you've done the right thing, but it's not like you. I know you miss Kim and the boys and so do I but we've got each other and I know you think Audrey's pretty and all that, I haven't lived with you all this time to not know something about you, but a couple like us, well, we've got a lot to give, we could maybe help her, she must be lonely, we could introduce her to the other neighbours, we could take her along to the Bridge club or something, I don't know.'

He stopped and shrugged his shoulders and stood up, he held out his hand.' Off to bed now sleepy head, you'll feel better in the morning.'

Barbara felt humbled, she didn't know what to say, James was a man of few words so for him to make a speech like that must have meant something. She felt horrible, how could she have been so unkind to Audrey. She'd try and undo the damage.

The next day Barbara decided to make a cake for Audrey and invite round and try and put things right. She scrabbled around in her cupboards to find the ingredients for her Chocolate fudge cake, she couldn't find the right cake tins and remembered they must be in the cupboard above the cooker. She grabbed a stool and reached up to open the door and there was a loud cracking noise as the stool gave way and she came tumbling down. Her foot was at an awkward angle and she winced in pain. Just then the front doorbell rang. She tried to get up then cried out in agony as she tried to put weight on her foot. The doorbell rang again. Barbara called out 'Is that you Audrey?'
She heard foot steps running away. She looked around for her phone but she'd left it in her bag in the hall. She tried again to move across the floor, the pain made her cry out, she felt almost faint.
Then she heard a loud knock on the back door and a 'Coo ee it's only me.' She cried with relief as Audrey came in, she gasped when she saw her.

'What's happened Barbara ? Are you alright? '

Barbara whimpered and pointed to her ankle. She watched as Audrey gently touched her leg and moved the ankle back into position,

'Don't worry I've done a First Aid course, I specialized in broken bones, your ankle is just sprained, it will be alright in no time. I'll just pop home and get some Arnica and a bandage, you stay here, don't worry, I'll let myself in the backdoor shall I?'

Their eyes met and they both burst into giggles, Barbara felt almost hysterical with relief.
'I'm so sorry Audrey,'
'Nah' Audrey waved her hand, 'I overdid it, I'm sorry.'

When James came home he was surprised to see Barbara with her leg up on a stool and Audrey bustling about making a casserole.

After the two women had explained  what had happened James reached for his phone and said, 'is there enough casserole for four? My mate John is on his own and I just saw him in the pub and maybe he's..'

Audrey laughed, 'There's plenty for four' then she stopped and winked at Barbara,
'That's if it's ok with Barbara of course.'