Tuesday, October 20, 2015 5:02 PM
This past Saturday, the entire family (including me, because
I am now an adopted chickpea) traveled to nonna’s beach house. I loved it there.
I didn’t want to leave.
This beach house placed a wonderful Italian spell over the
entire family. Nonna was the happiest I had ever seen her, the children joyfully
played outside for seven hours ignoring the mosquitos that were devouring them,
the rest of the adults reverted to the personalities that that house witnessed
years ago, and I was transported to a frozen time in the Piergentili family
life.
I could see the love radiating from nonna’s eyes as she
handed me her fiori di zucca to admire, mint basil to smell, pumpkins to look
at, and strawberries to eat from her tiny little garden. As she lovingly
trimmed the dead leaves off the plants hanging from her balcony I told her she
was the happiest I have ever seen her and she responded by saying that her wish
would be to stay here forever but the solitude would kill her. I can’t imagine
how difficult it is going to be when I have to say goodbye in two months.
Later that night I decided to study in the living room for a
bit while I listened to nonna and Emmanuela cook in the next room. Nonna came
over and turned on the fireplace, filling the entire room with the smell of
burning wood and the sound of crackling fire. The glow of the embers enveloped
the entire house in a feeling of tranquility and transported us to the days of
nonna’s past. I closed and put my laptop away because it felt out of place; it
was the only thing that reminded me of the present and I’d rather it stay in
the future. Nonna sat in the rocking chair next to me and I asked her to tell
me about her life. She complied and spoke about her life with her husband and
the struggles of post-war Italy. Her warm voice mixed with the crackling sound
of the fire until they were one and it felt like the woman before me was
nothing but a quiet fire in the darkness.
When it was finally time for dinner and the entire family
gathered nonna asked her son, Stefano, to bring out the wine because tonight
she could feel the spirits calling for her. My little, wine-filled heart jumped
up and down with happiness. I don’t know if it was the effects of the wine, the
tranquility of the fire, the sound of the crickets, or a combination of the three,
but I began to sense a feeling of serenity rush through me, my entire body
relaxed, and my mind came to a silent halt. I looked over to nonna’s flushed
face and couldn’t help but smile while remembering her telling me that the she
can feel the effects of wine after just one glass. I can attest to that,
because when I tried to fill my glass with water after drinking two glasses of
wine she got up, took my glass, threw the water out the window, and refilled my
glass with wine (thanks nonns).
I looked from face to face, listened to every sound, every
word, trying to consume the moment. This house was filled with treasures, six
of which were sitting at the dinner table with me.
After dinner I went out to the balcony and looked out on to
the quiet, little ocean town. I took a deep breath and could smell the salty
scent of the sea mixed with the fragrance of nonna’s dying roses.
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