Nonna

On my first day in our new apartment I was introduced by the landlord to 'Nonna'. She lives in the apartment down the corridor, she is 88 years young. I had watched her during the day come out to hang her washing, stand in the afternoon sun and to call for 'Mina' her cat "Dove sei Mina?"(Where are you Mina?).

On my second day in the apartment, it was late in the afternoon. I was cooking in the kitchen when I heard the bell ring at the gate. I poked my head out the window and saw 'Nonna' standing at the gate. She stands about 1.5m tall, with shiny white short cropped and neatly combed hair, a strong yet smiling face and dresses in smart pants, cream cashmere sweaters, matching scarfs and knitted shawls. She stood at the gate clutching her shawl with one hand and with the other she waved and motioned in the air for me to come as she said " Vieni Vieni dai Vieni" (Come come-on come). Initially I was worried, I thought 'Nonna' might need some help so I went out to see what she might need. She said "Ciao Cara vieni veini"(Hello dear, come come) and motioned with her hands that i close the front door and follow her. So I did.

We arrived at Nonna's place and once inside it was instantly clear that she didn't need my help, she just wanted to show me her home. She stood in the entry hall with arms out and proudly announced "Ecco questa e' la mia casa" (This is my house). She then proceeded to show me every nook & cranny of her quaint, two story apartment with such a-matter-of-fact…... "Questo e' il mio bagno (This is my bathroom), Questa e' la mia cucina (This is my kitchen), Queste sono le mie scale (These are my stairs), Questo e' il lettino dove Mina dorme (This is where Mina sleeps), Questo e' il mio piccolo palazzo (this is my little palace)"…a rooftop terrace with views fit for a king, "Questa e' la coperta che ho fatto (This is the blanket I made), Queste sono le foto delle mie nipoti These are photos of my granddaughters), Questo e' il diploma d'arte di mio marito (This is my husdands art diploma), Questi sono i quadri di mio marito (These are my husband's paintings) and "Questo e' il mio tavolo (This is my dining table)". Then I was ordered to sit at the table "Siediti, siediti" (sit, sit).So I did.

As I sat I admired the old wooden table. Nonna noticed me admiring the table and told me it was a very old table and it was very heavy. "Prova ad alzarlo" (try to lift it) she ordered…so I did…and it was heavy. She smiled and giggled at my efforts. "Siediti" she ordered, oop she's telling me to sit down again. I do as I'm told. Nonna talks as she ruffles in the kitchen and comes out with a basket of dry crackers and wafer biscuits. "Mangia, mangia" she says…oop I'm being told to eat…so I do.

I munch on the dry, yet tasty crackers and Nonna scoots over to the wooden buffet, from the cupboard she whips out a bottle of masala. She says "Adesso berremo del masala" (Now we will
drink masala)…so we do. She unfairly pours a splash into her glass and fairly fills my glass to the rim. We sip on the sweet masala and Nonna talks. She talks fast and enthusiastically and I really can't get most of what she is saying but I don't mind. I settle into my chair, my cheeks flushed with wine and I listen to her every word. I take in every line on her beautiful face and admire her strong hands that tell of a life of hard work. I have understood some things thought, about her life. I have understood her beloved husband has passed away, that she lives alone, that her granddaughters and great grandchildren live in America and that her cherished darling daughter has recently passed away. As she talked of this tragedy she clasped her face and shook her head. Her sorrow needs not translation. I tried hard not to dwell in pity for her, for she I'm sure, doesn't want my pity. Pity is insulting to a woman of her calibre. She did, I sense, want my company and that I was happy to give.

At first glance Nonna is small and fragile but once in her company she is a mighty force, strong willed, lively and will never take no for an answer. I found this last fact out after I tried to say 'NO' to a second glass of masala. She wouldn't take my no, instead continuing to talk, popping the cork and splashing my glass full again. Already a bit tipsy from my first glass, I looked at Nonna, then looked at the full glass and thought 'bugger-it'! She's enjoying my company as much as I'm enjoying hers. So there we sat, at Nonna's heavy wooden table. I ate & drank and she talked. She showed me her full buffet cabinet of crockery and fine china, each piece with its own story. Then she flung open the door of her 'glasses' cabinet full of shiny polished wine and champagne glasses. She stood in front of it with her arms wide open and said "Perche' ho tutti questi bicchieri?" (Why do I have all of these?),
"Chi usera' tutti questi bicchiri?" (Who's going to use all of these?). Me, now very merry on masala threw one arm around Nonna and gestured grandly with the other and said "We will use them Nonna, we will drink wine and champagne until every glass is dirty". She giggled thinking I was joking!

Just then, a tsunami of sadness surged through me as thoughts of my own darling 'Nanna Rusty' flooded in. Bringing tears of nostalgia, love and of regret. Regret for how little I visited her when I was in Perth. She did not live down the corridor from me, but she lived close enough. She to is a mighty force, strong willed and full of life, laughter, wisdom and stories of loss and joy. A woman who's presence is somehow unearthly, high, knowing, loving and wise beyond measure. To dwell in the past is not 'Nanna Rusty's' style so I take a leaf out of her book and push the surging sadness away before I drown in a little puddle of self-pity. I wish the tears away and sip at my sweet wine. I smile over at 'Nonna' vowing in my head to visit her every chance I get. I read once 'To live in the present alone is to fix the future'.

My glass was empty, luckily so was the bottle and it was time to go. I said my farewell to Nonna, kissed her on the cheeks and thanked her for her hospitality and her company. She grabbed me by the arms, looked me square in the face and said "No, grazie a te per la tua compagnia" (No, thank you for the company my dear). As I walked away, down the corridor I thought to myself 'No, thank you 'Nonna'.

A foot note of thanks for my Nanna Rusty:

A day does not pass where you do not cross my mind. I love you beyond measure. You have shaped who I am and the person I aim to be beyond measure. I count the days until I can return home and have a 'Nanna Rusty' hug. A Nanna Rusty hug is almighty, big and strong. I melt into her when she hugs me, her love so enveloping it makes me weak at the knees. I never feel as completely loved as I do when she hugs me. Nobody else will I love as much as she. Nobody else makes me feel so loved….so I say an unmeasurable 'Thankyou Nanna Rusty for loving me'.