Hello dear reader, what you are about to read is the second part of the new story “Italian chaT”. So far, there is no considerable relation to part I, however if you want to sort out the story and the events, I suggest you to read it that one first, before moving on the second part.
Thanks and enjoy 🙂
“Let’s take a sit here in the garden. It’s so refreshing, the nice soft breeze in the morning.”
I was drinking my coffee and thinking that I had to catch up with Marsia later. Time just flies when we are together, I really love the girl, but she just can’t stop talking about boys and their fancy cars, the clubs, the clothes, the ridiculous diets….Hhuuhhh… Models…
“So what do you do?”
“I am a writer.” Now that is quite laconic for being a writer. “Yeah I write… I try to…” Why does it feel even more awkward?
She keeps staring at me. “And what would you like to write about?”
I reply like an automatic answering machine: “I write about new fashion trends and combo tips or small category fashion events…” I didn’t like the sound of what I was saying but it was too late now.
“Capisco, well figures” she said slurping her coffee, which triggered my curiosity
( “I get it” literal meaning is “understand”)
“Oh gioia, it’s pretty obvious you don’t like your job, nor the people you work with, I got that from earlier. Since you said, you are a writer, I asked what would you like to write about…”
“Hhmmm yes and I answered”… I am confused “didn’t I?”
“You answered what you write about, not what would you LIKE. It’s different!”
“That’s even a harder question.”
“I see, you don’t want to expose yourself.”
“I imagined my life so differently, a few years ago, looks like it’s going somewhere but I am not the one driving.”
“Non avere paura, at your age happens, if you had it all sorted out, what would be the point?”
(Don’t be afraid)
“I can’t write anymore, what I used to, how I used to… It’s over anyway.”
“To not see what you used to see, means you are losing i tuoi colori, your colors, but nothing is really lost. And trust me I’ve suffered lots of losses in my life… But I don’t want to annoy you with my stories.” she was filling my cup again.
I took another piece of cake. “Would you like to share your story?”
“The point is, do you have time?”
“I do!” Voice filled with determination, now that’s something I had not heard in a while, coming from me.
“I was born on October 17th, 1935, in Emilia Romagna, Castello d’ Argile a small village at the time, near Bologna. World War II was right behind the corner when I was born, but to tell you the truth I remember very little.
However, what history teaches us is that, Italy came from a World War I nearly destroyed, our people had lost almost everything, even hope. There never was a developed industry in the first place, so the current situation at the time wasn’t promising at all. Agriculture was a complete disaster, farmers couldn’t make it through. Reasoning with banks was almost impossible, loans with crazy interest rates that no one could possibly afford. Then a new Era was beginning, a new hope to breath in the open air. Fascism spread like spring and it was absorbed like the rain in the desert. In the very beginning, the majority embraced it as the new salvation. Finally some change, was about to happen and people were looking forward to see their lives bloom, bright and shiny futures. And for a very brief moment, there was light.
Very few were the ones, that were able to see it for what it really was, a serious danger about to bring the downfall of our nation.
In the middle of this madhouse you had to pick a side, you were either with Duce or you were the “enemy”. Period.
Now, coming back to my family, my father was a teacher, teaching in the local village school. A noble, kind man, so quiet and wise. My mother, was a nurse working at the village nursery. They fell in love, he was a romantic one, who carried on writing poems to my mother even long after they got married. She used to tell me how caring and sweet he was, and was he the stubborn one as well, when courting her. She plaid very hard to get, but I think, father enjoyed the chase.
“Le fiamme mi consumano, ma dalla mia cenere l’amore fiorirá…”
“Flames consume me, from my ashes love shall flourish… ”
Yes, they were happy. The kind of happiness that makes you lighter, that makes you smile, that makes your heart swell from joy. The kind of happiness you would want to keep in a bubble and never let it go.
Imagine, if I could see such everlasting love when I was the last to join my family.”
She pauses. Drinks a sip of water and suddenly a frown, but still graceful. How can someone frown gracefully?
“I had two older brothers, much older than me. In fact I remember very little of them, since they were gone really soon after my birth.
What I remember is what my father told me, both very brave and idealistic as my father described them, very smart. They would have become great men if only they would have lived longer… Father was so proud and so attached to both of them.
But, there was a huge gap that took them apart. Ideology!
Isn’t it funny? It is a matter of principles and beliefs that make us turn in a certain direction, make some decisions, come close with people or grow apart with others, even when it is your own family or your own brother.
Ideology, from the very beginning of mankind. People fighting over it, giving their lives, sacrificing their very essence and soul. We never change. It’s ideology that changes, taking other shapes and colors. Back then it was fascism, communism, democracy while today we still keep making wars for “the free world”, for protection of this “world” and adding to it the proclamations and advertisements against Islam, ooohhh… ironic, it is the “fundamentalist” Islam and terrorism…”
“I’m sorry, I have to take this.”
“Yes dear, no worries.”
“Hello, yes… No I didn’t know that… Because I wasn’t told anything, nor informed. Well I can’t. Finally I took some days off for myself…. I can’t prepare the editorial just like that………… Ok, I will see what I can do about it… Ok, ok I know… OK, bye!”
“Tutto a posto?”
(Everything all right?)
“Yeah… Nooo actually not, I am sick and tired of this…”
“Do you have a choice? Is there anything you can do about it?”
“Hhhmmmm… noo… actually… I do… Please go on. Mmmm do you mind me taking notes?”
Her face lit up with a bright smile: “No, anzi, é un piacere per me.”
(No, quite the opposite, it’s a pleasure)
END Part II