October
60 Years In October the weather is nice on my island. The guys who took advantage of a scooter to get around on beaches exposed to the west where the sun is hot, make the final bathrooms, the elderly, for chatting on benches or stroll in the afternoon and feel less alone in the villages, the mothers to take the children outdoors.
Even my mother can not remember that October day, but only the year, took us to the public gardens beside the beach of The Gravel, in space where there were games and animals in a cage. The
monkey, macaque named Mark, I was a little 'fear was not a pretty sight that mangy skin and legs that stretched toward those who approached the network.
but I liked the peacock when he made the wheel. I was looking at him he opened his tail twice, then walked the swing.
It was nice to go on the swing. I pushed myself alone, the maximum bending your legs under the table and trying each time to give me more momentum and I could get higher and higher. There I spent the afternoon. The pleated skirt is flying open, imitating the wheel of the peacock.
usually had plenty of time to meet my favorite game. When your hands hurt because it was too long had tightened the rope, I stopped.
That day, that time had not yet arrived. It was good to the gardens, there were other mothers, other children and I flew, I flew and I was fine.
Every now descended to drink at the fountain. Near the cage, there was the storage of municipal gardener, always closed. Not that the man did not work, I saw it go through the wheelbarrow along the areas where the gardens were divided. Pittosporum hedges of an area divided from each other and joined the gravel paths. He went back and forth picking up leaves and leaves which then overturned near the warehouse.
The fountain was beyond the warehouse, on the other side of the cage of the animals, our zoo Lilliputian although the island did not need to know the animals to a zoo. It was enough to raise his eyes to see the sea gulls, the sparrows in the trees. For the roads traveled by horse-drawn carriages and almost all families had relatives who kept the campaign, then donkeys, chickens and sometimes rabbits and cows and goats.
I was swinging well, the sun was warm to the four. He was soon to fall. So I thought until my mother called.
"We must go."
'E' soon. "
" We have to go to the port, comes papa. "
" No, two more laps. "
" No! You come. "
" Damn a lui!”
Schivai uno schiaffo per un pelo. Lo sapevo che accidenti era una parola che non si doveva usare. La dissi per fare la grande, avevo quasi otto anni e mi sentivo tale.
Del porto ricordo quasi nulla, forse babbo vestito con la divisa bianca estiva che scendeva dalla nave. Era strano vestito così di bianco ed erano strane le scarpe con le stringhe immacolate.
Era strano soprattutto a terra, quando si andava verso casa, dove subito si cambiava perché odiava le divise. Per questo, dopo l’anno di leva trascorso in parte a La Spezia e in parte all’Accademia navale di Livorno, non rimase nella Marina Militare,; voleva essere libero e per tanto tempo lo fu navigando sulle petroliere dove l’equipaggio era una family and there was no need to wear ranks to steer a ship. Then, for our sake, he returned to work close to home and touched to wear the uniform, though not for the Navy, but for a private owner. In winter it was dark blue, on the reverse in summer white.
In October, it was still white, uniform or no uniform, I loved my father, even though it was severe. With me, after all, it was not.
Of course I had to act like a lady, do not interrupt the speech of adults, eat with knife and fork, not to improper questions, but I loved him because I felt his love on the skin when m'infilavo in Latvia with my own or when I passed of nuts hidden under the in the table and laughed when told that was due to leave the restaurant because I pointed out loudly that two adults had not yet learned to eat the prawns with a knife and fork.
And even once forced him, against my will to get out of a restaurant in Naples in the room after I was running toward him yelling that I had made big poo on the toilet!
This episode, however, do not remember, told me. I was little and Naples m'è remained only the image of huge Santa Claus through the streets. Perhaps they were little and I see them larger. Who knows. Like I feel great, although small, walking through the summer nights next to a child that I lost the name and face in the memory, while walking in front of our parents on summer evenings, at Giglio Porto.
was good like going on the swings, maybe more because I heard the sound of the surf and the sound of fishing boats that were covered in black and white stood on the ferry, where my father worked, the ship that was a bit 'our home and where a old sailor made me hear the voices of the men were off fishing vessels. As I liked the sounds that came from a canister and shrill that microphone where he lowered his head slightly called it, not sailors, but the name of the boat! I was little and I felt great.
was a word too damn tiny and became a big word big and heavy as a boulder, a burden that I took until reason prevailed on emotion.
that I had no bad intentions, just to feel great and instead someone up there had misinterpreted. What I knew then that accident was so bad a curse and that could translate to "you were an accident."
The accident happened after less than a month, on board another ship is white, in a distant city that I've never visited and where I will not go away because I took him on a day in November. Damn
was not my fault your accident. I did not want Dad did not want. Why did you abandoned?
The ship suddenly tilted to one side and you volasti up, especially me when I went to swing and then you fell to the ground, in that the dry dock and we saw no more.
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