Read Online From the Land of the Moon by Milena Agus - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Milena Agus
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as the Veteran. Him she loved above all else.
With him she felt no embarrassment, not even if they peed together to get rid of the stones, and since her whole life she had been told that she was like someone from the land of the moon, it seemed to her that she had finally met someone from her own land, and that was the principal thing in life, which she had never had.
In fact, after the thermal cure, grandmother never again scrawled over the decorations on the wall, which are still here in Via Manno, or tore the embroidery, which is still on the pockets of the smocks I wore as a child, and which, God willing, and I hope very much that he is, I will pass on to my children. My father’s embryo did not lack the principal thing.
She had given the little notebook to the Veteran, because she wouldn’t have time to write now. She had to begin to live. Because the Veteran was a moment and grandmother’s life was many other things.
14.
A s soon as she came home she got pregnant, and in all those months she never had a kidney stone, and her stomach swelled, and grandfather and the neighbors wouldn’t let her touch anything and treated her cummenti su nènniri , like a shoot of grain just emerged from the earth. My father had a cradle of blue-painted wood and a layette put together at the last moment, superstitiously, and when he was a year old grandfather wanted to have a big celebration in the kitchen at Via Sulis, with the hand-embroidered cloth on the table. He bought a camera, and finally, poor man, he tasted a truly happy birthday cake—American style, sponge cake with layers of custard and chocolate, and a candle. Grandmother isn’t in the pictures. She had fled in tears to the bedroom, overcome by emotion, because they had begun to sing “Happy Birthday.” And when they tried to persuade her to return, she kept saying she couldn’t believe that a child had come out of her, and not just kidney stones. And she continued to weep uncontrollably, and her sisters, who had come from the village for the occasion, surely expected some macchiòri , some craziness, that would reveal to all those people that grandmother was mad. Instead, grandmother got up from the bed, dried her eyes, and went back to the kitchen and took her child in her arms. She isn’t in the photographs because, with her eyes swollen, she felt ugly, and she wanted to be pretty for her son’s first birthday.
Grandmother became pregnant other times, but all my father’s possible siblings evidently lacked the principal thing, and turned back after the first months, unwilling to be born.
In 1954 they came to live on Via Manno. They were the first to leave the common house on Via Sulis, and even though Via Manno is just around the corner, they felt regret. So on Sundays grandfather invited the old neighbors and he grilled fish or sausages on the terrace and toasted bread with oil, and when the weather was good they put out picnic tables and chairs, which in summer they brought to the bathing hut on the Poetto. Grandmother loved Via Manno right away, even before it was built, ever since she had gone to see the hole and the mounds of rubble. The terrace soon became a garden. I remember the fox grape and ivy that climbed up the back wall, the geraniums grouped by color, violets, pinks, reds. In spring a little yellow forest of broom and freesias bloomed, in summer dahlias and fragrant jasmine and bougainvillea, and in winter the pyracantha had so many red berries that we used them as Christmas ornaments.
When the mistral blew we put on bandannas and hurried up to save the plants, setting them against the walls or covering them with plastic, while some of the more delicate ones we brought into the house until the wind stopped blowing, sweeping everything away.
15.
S ometimes I thought that the Veteran hadn’t loved grandmother. He hadn’t given her his address, and he knew where she lived and had never sent even a postcard; he
With him she felt no embarrassment, not even if they peed together to get rid of the stones, and since her whole life she had been told that she was like someone from the land of the moon, it seemed to her that she had finally met someone from her own land, and that was the principal thing in life, which she had never had.
In fact, after the thermal cure, grandmother never again scrawled over the decorations on the wall, which are still here in Via Manno, or tore the embroidery, which is still on the pockets of the smocks I wore as a child, and which, God willing, and I hope very much that he is, I will pass on to my children. My father’s embryo did not lack the principal thing.
She had given the little notebook to the Veteran, because she wouldn’t have time to write now. She had to begin to live. Because the Veteran was a moment and grandmother’s life was many other things.
14.
A s soon as she came home she got pregnant, and in all those months she never had a kidney stone, and her stomach swelled, and grandfather and the neighbors wouldn’t let her touch anything and treated her cummenti su nènniri , like a shoot of grain just emerged from the earth. My father had a cradle of blue-painted wood and a layette put together at the last moment, superstitiously, and when he was a year old grandfather wanted to have a big celebration in the kitchen at Via Sulis, with the hand-embroidered cloth on the table. He bought a camera, and finally, poor man, he tasted a truly happy birthday cake—American style, sponge cake with layers of custard and chocolate, and a candle. Grandmother isn’t in the pictures. She had fled in tears to the bedroom, overcome by emotion, because they had begun to sing “Happy Birthday.” And when they tried to persuade her to return, she kept saying she couldn’t believe that a child had come out of her, and not just kidney stones. And she continued to weep uncontrollably, and her sisters, who had come from the village for the occasion, surely expected some macchiòri , some craziness, that would reveal to all those people that grandmother was mad. Instead, grandmother got up from the bed, dried her eyes, and went back to the kitchen and took her child in her arms. She isn’t in the photographs because, with her eyes swollen, she felt ugly, and she wanted to be pretty for her son’s first birthday.
Grandmother became pregnant other times, but all my father’s possible siblings evidently lacked the principal thing, and turned back after the first months, unwilling to be born.
In 1954 they came to live on Via Manno. They were the first to leave the common house on Via Sulis, and even though Via Manno is just around the corner, they felt regret. So on Sundays grandfather invited the old neighbors and he grilled fish or sausages on the terrace and toasted bread with oil, and when the weather was good they put out picnic tables and chairs, which in summer they brought to the bathing hut on the Poetto. Grandmother loved Via Manno right away, even before it was built, ever since she had gone to see the hole and the mounds of rubble. The terrace soon became a garden. I remember the fox grape and ivy that climbed up the back wall, the geraniums grouped by color, violets, pinks, reds. In spring a little yellow forest of broom and freesias bloomed, in summer dahlias and fragrant jasmine and bougainvillea, and in winter the pyracantha had so many red berries that we used them as Christmas ornaments.
When the mistral blew we put on bandannas and hurried up to save the plants, setting them against the walls or covering them with plastic, while some of the more delicate ones we brought into the house until the wind stopped blowing, sweeping everything away.
15.
S ometimes I thought that the Veteran hadn’t loved grandmother. He hadn’t given her his address, and he knew where she lived and had never sent even a postcard; he
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