gem The air has a different smell, wasps start to die on the road, the tractors are loaded with grapes. Finally, August is gone. I decided to reopen the blog, without too many commitments. When I start to write something, in short.
A month ago, before returning home, I thought about going to visit my grandmother Gemma who was in bed with high fever for several days. He was there lying on the bed and release small moans. Her eyes were closed, he was unconscious. The next day at eight-thirty the phone rang, and I immediately knew it was dead. On 18 August, the same day Fernanda Pivano. I took the bike and I flew home. Her skin was still warm, the serene face. She had left about eight o'clock, and before leaving she had dropped a tear.
I talked to my grandparents in the early days of this blog,
about three years ago, and since then it had changed a lot of things. In this short period of time so strangely, more precisely from a couple of years ago, my grandmother was quietly slipped in his own world, a sort of collage of childhood memories that are ill-suited to the frame of the present. This inconsistency made her suffer, to be seen. Day after day, his eyes became more absent, and his body was more immovable. The flashes of consciousness were increasingly rare, and his was a slow and sad farewell.
When I was little I spent a lot of beautiful afternoons, along with my nonnni. My grandmother was a very nice person and we had a special relationship. When we were greeted to a strange stupid that I can not describe, but we had maintained in recent years. I remember her fried steak and chips, its soup, chocolate pudding or peach syrup in bowl of green glass. I remember messing Berlusconi's face in the papers because he could not see. I remember holding lighters sold out in a drawer in a box ... a child we played a lot. I remember always told that instead of "peppers" a child said "pepeluni", and in fact she called them so (or perhaps was my brother, who knows). The terrace with plants. The point bickering with my grandfather and his lines sharp. On summer evenings spent so many years ago to watch "A discussion on the sea."
