скачать книгу бесплатно
Mamma Barbara is a sweet and caring mother, her cheeks are as soft as grandmaâs. She really loves children and has a special touch with them, she impersonates motherly love, it fits her to a t. When Iâm in her arms I feel enveloped in a blanket in which I find all I need. A hug often works better than most words or medicines, it can shake you and give you a sense of inner calm, itâs all a matter of your state of mind, of what your soul needs.
I live with my family in a small mountain farm at the feet of the Sciliar. We have various animals, cows, sheep, two horses, rabbits, chickens giving us what we need to live, and theyâre looked after mainly by our father, Karl. Here in Castelrotto, life flows regularly, in full symbiosis with nature dictating its rhythm to the days. In the morning the sun rises caressing the tops of the Sciliar and hiding behind them, finally revealing itself in all its glory above the whole valley. In the evening, sunsets last for quite a lot, until the sun goes to sleep behind the distant mountain chains standing out in the skies of Bolzano and Merano.
I also have a brother, Oswald, who is seven, and a sister, Waltraud, who is ten, sheâs the eldest. When my brother Oswald and my sister Waltraud come back from school and finish their homework we often play together, heâs like my guardian brother, Waltraud looks after me like a second mum, sheâs of great help to mamma Barbara with the housework, just like Oswald is to papa Karl with the cattle in the stable.
2 TN: Italian name of the Schlern.
To be fair I too lend them a hand, obviously itâs nothing more than a game for me, I ask a lot of questions, Iâm very curious and fascinated by this rural world. Some days ago, while helping Oswald throwing hay from the barn to the stable below through the square hole which opens directly next to the trough, I fell into it, finding myself close to the cows munching their hay and looking bewildered at me.
In the summer months, like now in August, we spend entire days in the fields gathering hay. I mostly have fun, running and jumping across the rows of hay like a prancing colt. I often play with small frogs, sometimes I even manage to catch them and carry them in our home garden, but they always find a way to escape. I really like going with Karl on the motorized lawnmower, imitating the noise and the gestures and enjoying the smell of petrol which is an orange mixture looking just like orange juice syrup. Mamma Barbara soon runs out of patience at my imitations:
âHow much more are you going to last with that ânyu nyu,
nyu nyuâ? Stop it please.â
And Iâm sad Iâve annoyed her, so I keep doing it quietly or I simply mime it.
Our small house is simple, somewhat old but itâs just like a fairy tale house, Hänsel and Gretel, that kind of stuff.
With a balcony opening onto the perfumed fields below, the house is placed close to a tiny church and a small crossroads of tight streets, which could be called the townâs centre or square.
For us children, itâs the courtyard where we meet and play with the gang, since almost all of the inhabited houses are there. Some of our neighbours even have seven or eight children, we must be about thirty kids in total.
The barn and the stable are five hundred yards from there, and nearby we also have a small vegetable garden with beautiful flowers and a lot of sunflowers cared for by mamma Barbara, I obviously give her a hand, well, at least kind of. Thereâs also a creek which is a hoot to splash around in, every time I pass it by I want to drink all that fresh water and dive headlong from the small wooden bridge.
We can even hear its sound when the windows are open, and itâs a pleasing presence for the ears and the nose when I deeply breathe that fresh air at morning and at sundown.
And watching the thin mist lifting from the valley at the feet of the Sciliar when the sun is rising, like a theatre curtain at the beginning of a play.
A place like this offers an infinity of spaces for playing, arousing and developing your imagination and tickling creativity.
Like our belfry, which we consider some sort of headquarters: it has long been in disuse, but that isnât a problem for us. We can climb to the top and enjoy the view on our territory from there or we can hide in it when we need to.
We are quite poor, but we get by, producing milk and selling a couple of animals every now and then. But money is never enough to provide for everyone, so mamma Barbara supplements our income by fostering children of all ages at home for periods between a couple of weeks and some months, often during summer.
Children in need of temporary accommodation or of a summer stay, many of them with problems at home, in their family, or with no family at all. Here they all can find shelter and especially love, which is what they need the most, waiting for their own situations to get better or to end up who knows where.
One could also imagine it as a parking lot, or a warehouse where lost parcels wait for a destination.
I remember a blond girl, Eva, who last year stayed with us for some time, she was so sweet, she had a problem with her hands. Her maternal grandmother had drinking issues, and once, sitting drunk in front of the stove, she had tried to warm Evaâs hands by putting them on the piping-hot plate, burning her palms.
So last year they took her here in the mountains to recover and escape from that situation.
Poor thing, she was my playmate at that time, we used to go play in the square, I had my favourite car, a pale-yellow beetle, and she had her dolls.
One morning we were sitting on the ground playing in the courtyard, we looked at each other and at a certain point our faces got nearer and nearer and we gave each other a kiss, innocent but full of affection, I remember it so well, I mustâve fallen in love.
The day after I realized Iâd left my beetle on the courtyard floor: a car had run over it and squashed it, turning it into a convertible.
Some days later the girl had to leave, a woman and a man had come to take her away, I got very sad, I remember I thought âIâve just got engaged, and sheâs already gone.â
I hoped sheâd come back one day, every day Iâd go back and play with my beetle in that same spot, even if it was beaten-up it reminded me of the time we spent together.
Unfortunately, Iâve neither seen her nor heard from her since, I hope sheâs all right now. Itâd be nice to see her again one day, probably far away from here. You never know, so I kept hoping.
When one of our âsiblings in adventureâ must leave to go back to their original family or somewhere else, itâs usually a sad moment for us. The longer they stay, the more we bond, and especially for mamma Barbara itâs hard to say goodbye to these unlucky children and let them go. She suffers a lot and she frequently cries, if it were for her she would keep everyone with her.
When that happens, I try to comfort her, it breaks my heart to see her cry, I can partly cheer her up, because we love each other. To be honest I must admit that even though itâs kind of tragic, I still see it in a positive light, at least I can remain here with her and our family.
To make sure thatâs true I often ask her:
âIsnât it true that I can stay here with you and the others forever? Iâll cheer you up whenever you need, and youâll do the same.â
She smiles melancholily, and replies:
âYes darling, what are we going to do around here if you leave too?â
Sometimes itâs also hard to share everything with the other kids, jealousies and envies spring up every now and then, but I think thatâs normal, itâs a way to learn the rules of living together.
These places are so beautiful, I could never imagine having to leave someday. This thought really worries me, I often have a strange feeling, and when I think about it Iâm afraid that, by mistake or just for a laugh, someone may come here and take me away, like in a nightmare.
But now Iâm tired, Iâve got drowsy in mamma Barbaraâs arms and Iâve fallen asleep on her knees and I no longer see the stars in the sky, Iâve taken them with me in my sleep together with mamma Barbaraâs tender smile.
Surprise visit
The following morningâ¦
Oswald got up early this morning, he and Karl must have gone to the fields to make hay, I could tell from his empty bed, we sleep in the same room.
Waltraud, now a young woman, sleeps in her own room instead.
Mamma Barbara comes to wake me up, but Iâm already awake and canât wait to get up, I donât know why but in summer as soon as I see a ray of light Iâve got to get up and go outside.
Normally Iâm not a sleepyhead, I toss and turn before getting up, just like our football teams when they try to stall the game at the end of the first half.
In my mind, I can see mamma Barbaraâs breakfast perfectly: a large, huge, white, crunchy, thickly sliced loaf of freshly baked bread, nice and soft, with butter and homemade jam, and obviously our cowsâ fresh milk with some Ovaltine.
Itâs a bright sunny day, the viewâs spectacular, the August sky as clear as it can be, maybe weâre getting close to the end of the month, the first days of September are approaching.
Barbara cheerfully says to me:
âGrandmaâs coming to see us today, Iâve waited until now to
tell you, I wanted to make sure it was a surprise.â
âReally? Thatâs amazing, grandmaâs visiting from Bolzano, I
knew it was going to be a great day, I could tell when I
peeked out of my eyes and saw the sunrays shine as far as
the bedroom.â
I wasnât expecting that, itâs a real surprise, usually when grandma comes they tell me some days in advance, while this timeâ¦
About every fourteen days, often on a Sunday, but also during the week, on Tuesdays for example, our house and my heart are decked to their best, as soon as I finish breakfast I run to the bus stop to hug her as soon as I can.
If sheâs on time, she arrives at 10 in the morning, I always look forward to this moment. I see the bus arriving, I jump up and down impatiently, it gets closer to the stop, it stops, a friendly and intriguing noise, a whistle from the opening doors tgssschhhh and then they shut tgssschhhh toc.
The bus struggles a bit to start up again with a big smoke, suddenly grandmaâs silver hair appears and her sweet and charming smile wins me over as if it was a loverâs, itâs a childlike joy.
She always brings something for me, but she herself is the best present possible. When we return home, I help her carrying her bag and I fill her in with the latest news. We climb a mild slope, and after the first bend we can already see our house. Itâs so beautiful to walk hand in hand on the dirt road while Mamma Barbara waves at us in the distance.
When Iâm between them both and I hear them discuss or talk about me, about the pranks I pull with Oswald and the other kids, I feel like in a circle of sensations and pathos, coming to a close in that very moment Iâm experiencing.
Grandma and mamma Barbara have become very close friends. Barbara always says every time grandma comes to visit us itâs like a holiday for her too, she wonât do anything for the whole day apart from spending time with me and her.
During the week thereâs a lot of work to do here between the house, the family and the stable, but at least for a day she can rest for a bit and take a break from the country life routine.
For grandmaâs arrival, Mamma Barbara always cooks some traditional Alto Adige dishes which are so good, as well as traditional desserts such as strudel. They talk for hours on end, they have so many things to share with each other, itâs as if they are in a confessional. I believe having the chance to speak with a trustworthy and understanding friend such as grandma also works as a safety valve for mamma Barbara. After all, grandma has lived through both World Wars and seen it all. Her stories and anecdotes, which she describes with enjoyable intensity and emphasis, intrigue me too, I have a hunch Iâll be hearing these tales again and again.
Looking at them with attention while they speak, I notice they have the same soft cheeks and the same sweet smile, kind of hardened by their intense lives. Some faces are like books, you can almost read a personâs impressions and characteristics without a word from them, but for a child itâs better to hear adult people calmly talking all around them, itâs like music.
It gives you a certain sense of security, itâs like an invisible blanket wrapping you inside, itâs like love, you unconsciously record the voices and the many undefinable sensations.
I feel like thereâs a strong bond with grandma, itâs as if sheâs my guide, a channel between two worlds, the first is mamma Barbaraâs, the second is grandma Annaâs, who for four years now has been coming up to see me every two weeks.
At my age of four Iâve never asked myself whose mother she was, if sheâs my paternal grandmother or⦠she certainly canât be my maternal grandmother, since Barbaraâs not her daughter.
Papa Karl has his own mother, sheâs already almost ninety and she lives near us in the town, she looks after the chickens and the many cats we have.
Our holiday slowly draws to a close and starts getting tinged with melancholy, as soon as evening arrives grandma must go back home to Bolzano.
Iâd never want to hand her cloak, if only I could stop her from leaving:
âCouldnât you just stay over for some more days?'
âIâd gladly stay here with you, but you know I have work to
do in my fields and in my garden and my son is waiting for
me too. Just wait and see, Iâll be back soon, two weeks will
fly by.â
As I walk with her at the bus stop I receive her last advice and I tell her some of my wishes for our next encounter.
Now I give her a small kiss and I hug her long and hard, she slowly walks up the busâs steps while I follow her with my gaze, half amused, half blue. As if in slow motion, I enjoy every instant of her departure, then she sits next to the window and I wave her goodbye. The bus starts up with its usual black smoke, but now itâs going downhill. I wait until I see the bus disappear between the hairpin turns and the tunnels, and I stay motionless, listening to the busâs rumble disappear in the distance.
With that clumsy noise still in my ears I head home full of hope for her next visit, and at any rate happy since Iâm running back to mamma Barbara.
Happy times always pass the fastest, as soon as you start enjoying them theyâre already over. When I open the garden gate the smell of tomatoes freshly watered by mamma Barbara envelops me. The sunflowers are all turned towards the end of the valley, where the sunâs already set, all of them looking towards Bolzano as if they were also following grandmaâs homecoming.
In the kitchen the cakesâ smell is still hovering and tickling my appetite, the toy grandma brought me is on the table, I pick it up carefully and take it to my room. Iâm hungry and the soupâs already on the table and we eat supper together.
The following days pass by tranquilly, the usual routine, until the weekend, Saturday that is.
Some people have come to visit us, an elegant lady, Giuseppina, accompanied by two equally elegant men. They must be mamma Barbaraâs friends, even though it doesnât look like she knows them, the encounterâs very informal.
Anyway, theyâre nice and pleasant, especially one of the two men whoâs very cheerful and tells lots of jokes, it must be his thing. The ladyâs brought me a beautiful present, a battery locomotive that is now running fast across the living room, itâs got a light on the front making a sound like uhhhhhuuuuuu uhhhhuuuuuu.
Itâs as if itâs mad with joy, when it touches an obstacle it turns around and carries on regardless, I like it, Iâm so fascinated by this toy that I almost canât stop listening to its sound.
Theyâre drinking coffee with mamma Barbara, and theyâre talking, about me as well, after all Iâm the youngest in the family. The lady often smiles at me and I smile back, sheâs kind of mysterious, itâs almost like at some point her eyes are going to reveal a secret to me.
When these nice hours in the company of our guests are over, itâs time to say goodbye to them, the lady almost starts to cry, maybe itâs because she felt nice here with us.
Sheâs sorry to leave, as lots of people have been time and time again around here. When theyâve left, Mamma Barbara hugs me tight and kisses me on the forehead, sheâs also happy theyâve come to visit us.
âYou know, Iâm always happy when someone pays us a visit
us and I can offer them something good and we can have
some company. That lady already came once, you know,
with her brother and a friend.â
I couldnât remember them obviously, I must have been too young, so Barbara takes out some photographs in which we are together, the elegant lady is holding me in her arms. In another picture Iâm sitting on a small red pedal tractor, with a little red coat and a white woollen hat.
Then she shows me some more photographs, in which Iâm walking with a smartly dressed gentleman, weâre going hand in hand on a dirt road in the middle of the fields.
I know that place, itâs near home, on the hill full of walnut trees and the wild pears that taste sour when you eat them, like wood. If they arenât ripe and they have no âred cheeksâ theyâre impossible to eat.
In another picture Iâm in the middle of the field, Iâm picking flowers with a nice lady, sheâs smartly dressed, her hair styled.
Barbara explains to me that:
âThis ladyâs nameâs Miriam, sheâs come to visit you with her
husband Remo. You picked flowers for her and then you
brought some for me too, do you remember?â
âYes, vaguely, but I canât remember much.â
On the border of the photograph thereâs a date, âJuly 1973â, theyâd come to celebrate my birthday, I was only three then, now Iâm four already.
It was summer, itâs clear from the brightness and the light emanating from the photograph, typical of the month of July, and also from the fields full of grass and in bloom.
