For security Grandma gets up and serves all the usual baked apples. It will be the effect of sugars, but Angela is suddenly quiet. I do not think my sensible discourse on marriage to appease his spirit. From my words you understand that do not really know anything about midlife crisis and distracted husbands. I'm on my carefree second year of marriage, Marco and I argue only for those who go to the grocery store and who has to clean the cat litter.
When our spoons stop set the absolute silence. We shook on the same couch as a family of pigeons on a ledge. With a blanket trying to restore the circulation in my feet cold.
"I have never told of Anton?" My grandmother breaks the silence while we are all committed to set the tongues of fire in the fireplace and get something sensible to say not to fall nell'empasse a silent too long.
ago Mom shook her head and sniffs. I secretly crossing his fingers, which is not a shameful secret ... But it is.
Anton, a name that my grandmother does not pronounce well and in Lombard dialect still sounds harder, recalled with a sweetness that you would expect. Anton is the summer sun is blushing and tulips brown ears is the sound of wind in the leaves of the poplars and the salty taste of sweat that soaks your clothes. With that as we travel in time to the youth of an old lady who has never forgotten once saw a soldier, to the river while doing the laundry.
Maybe because with the added patina of memories a beautiful day it becomes more coy ed'effetto a music video, maybe because when we are young we all live with my heart in hand, exposed, open, for sure that guy Germany today has earned a slice of immortality.
the story ends When my grandmother Angela sighs and shakes hands with strong bony among its well-kept and painted nails red. Neither I nor she knew that there was a first encounter with his grandfather than Remo. Made us think that her love life had begun and ended with him.
Soon after I fall asleep and wave my legs in the initial phase of sleep. When do the dreams I find that the couch is too small for the bodies of two adult females and relaxed, having tumbled on the carpet, I decide to move. When it comes to the morning light is already awake, catch the eye of Angela who is waking up on the couch.
Turn on both phones and get a burst sms roaming. I watch my mother. The spreads a smile, while receiving at least ten times. His phone trilling as an alarm clock gone mad. She sighs and shakes his blanket to his chest, then jumps up and mend the scarlet gown. Find a mirror and frantically rummaged in her bag to catch the eye pencil. In ten minutes it is ready and charged, while I struggle to reorganize his thinking.
"After all, your father is not so bad ..." He shakes the phone. "Ten messages, all his,"
I look out the window. The snow the night before was a blank wall now is melting, is yellow and resembles the mush of baked apples. I stretched, weird no hurry to run away.
Last night I learned the recipe of the time: the world I can wait another few minutes.
THE END
0 comments:
Post a Comment