Festa della Mamma (Mother's Day)

I knew my mother was there, as I could smell roses, Talcum Powder and Nivea Cream and because I felt happy.

There was something so beautiful, "soft", comforting, about my mother. She held my hand when we walked together, she held me against her body and hid me inside her big coat on a Winter's day, when the Maestrale blew and we were scared. I was holding a few sticks and I remember them breaking in my hand, she held me so tight.

A beautiful Italian mother and her child, in a garden, in Italy

I knew my mother was there on New Year's Eve, when the sky was set "alight" with fireworks and she cried, and I cried, too, because I knew what she was thinking.

She was precious to me, and I was very precious to her, as I was her "baby". She loved me and I could feel that love all over me, wherever I went, wherever I was. Because it was real love and you can FEEL love, when it's alive and real.

Love is a precious thing, it's a rare thing... it's something that outlives you.

I will never forget my mother. And though she is so sick and doesn't know who I am, I know who showed me a rose for the first time... I know who taught me about who I was and about my history, and I'll never forget it.

 

I know who showed me a rose for the first time

... and taught me about who I was

It's Mother's Day, today, in Italy. Italian Mammas are like hens... they take you under their wings and never let you go. And even when you think they no longer recognize you, one day they will stroke your hair and say:" Che bei capelli... biondi... mia figlia!"

Auguri a tutte le bellissime mamme italiane!

Mary is a very beautiful mother. She was born and lives in Bari, Italy

She gave my nephew Fabio, a beautiful, funny, clever child, Flavio

who enjoys dancing and doing the splits!