Moving to Italy: A Day in the Life

Journal Entry: Sat. Aug 21,  Gabi

            Thursday the sun was bright and strong in the sky, and we adults spent the day seeking a shade or breeze to ease the hot humid weight that seemed to rest on us. The electricians worked all day on the wiring so that I couldn't finish a wash until late evening. On Friday we awoke to a grey gloomy sky, but I bravely strung out the wash on the pulley line over the courtyard.  Dario the stonemason arrived and filled the few remaining holes from the wiring then took his bucket of cement downstairs to repair the trench in the walk left by the plumbers. I cleared away the breakfast dishes then leaned over the balcony listening to the jovial flow of Italian run back and forth between Dario, George and his father.  George and Dario were mixing a huge pile of cement with large shovels while Paul and his grandpa sloshed the water into the dry parts. On his way back with more water Paul called out "Mama, piove!" ("It's raining!") The clouds were darker now and vaguely in the distance we could hear a rumble of thunder. “Oh don't take the wash in,” they told me, “it's just a few drops.” I shrugged uncertainly then went to finish the dishes. I hopefully put another load in the washing machine, before attacking with my broom the piles of rubble under each newly-filled cavity in the wall. The rock here is powdery when scraped, and the hours of carving away strips for the pipes and wires for the radiators had left all of our rooms swathed in dust. As I swept, clouds of it rose and hung in the air so that as I moved on, another layer settled behind me. At least I managed to get all the rocks and electrician's wrappings cleared away and onto the front balcony.  From there it would be tossed over the side to help build up our driveway which is being slowly eroded downhill by the heavy rains, the cars and the tractor. 

           

The laundry, strung high enough so it would not interfere with the tractor.

I heard George calling to the twins, "Get in, you'll get wet." I ran to the back balcony and pulled in the two squealing toddlers. Large drops of rain pat-patted on the ground below as I closed the shutters and doors of the kitchen. I stood for a few seconds wondering if I should bring in the clothes, but the rain was pounding the ground by then and they hung on the line in dripping streaks.  It was very quiet in the kitchen behind me, and I realized the washing machine had stopped and the refrigerator wasn't humming. The electricity was off again, this time caused by the electric storm I could hear rolling closer.

Paul ran over to Simona’s house in his bright yellow raincoat, but George and Dario continued to work, now with jackets on. They measured a line for the fence to help keep the twins contained a little and stood and discussed the matter for a while. I could hear wicked laughter and ran to see Margaret and Matthew splashing in the puddles on the balcony, having exited by my bedroom door. I pulled them in again and dried them off, then started sweeping the bedroom floor. James came in with another broom to "help." I placed him on a patch that I'd already finished and he pushed the still-settling dust around. I wondered how much harm all this dust would do to the children's lungs. George came up then to help with cleanup. Dario had driven home, while the gravel road down the hill was still passable. The rain was pelting down outside but the electricity had returned. We turned on the lights to ease the eye-strain of the gloom. The window onto the balcony was open in the vain hope that some of the dust would settle outside, and through it we could smell and feel the cool dampness outside. Every now and then the lights flickered, the lightening streaked, and thunder cracked above us.

            Through it all we heard the growl of the motorcycle as the mailman rounded the corner of the house. George and James went down to collect the mail from him, and James was the proud bearer of the letter to me. It felt damp to my fingertips but not a drop of rain was on it. I sat on the bed and read it to George while he continued to sweep. Halfway through the lights went off, so I gave up and left to put the finishing touches to lunch, while George ran through the light rain to get Paul.
(The letter would wait until I could savor it later that night—as long as the power held!) The four children then sat to eat around the kitchen table. Because it was so dark, Paul and James wondered if this were lunch or dinner. When I said lunch James wanted to know when the sun was coming up. By the time we finished, the rain had slowed to a drizzle and the electricity had come back.

            After lunch the babies went to sleep in their cribs, and George took the boys on our bed and read to them from a book on mammals. While the water for the dishes was heating up on the stove, I sat with them. The boys listened and understood some things but they related better to the pictures, trying to pronounce the names of the ancient animals. They wanted to know why some animals had become extinct, and I explained to them that some had died off naturally, but others had been hunted and killed by men, and that now we had laws to protect endangered species. Paul understood more than I thought he would and responded with questions. James listened but didn't say too much except to point out the different pictures and ask "Are there any of these left?" While George explained to him a little about evolution, I left to finish the dishes.

            Afterwards, I pulled out the large bag of pears we had collected a few days ago, then put on water to boil and made syrup. I can only can one jar at a time because the larger pots aren't available here. I selected and cleaned the large pears and ate some of the smaller ones, then sighed and wondered when I would ever get the will power to lose weight. All was quiet in the bedroom so I crossed over the stairs and peeked in. George was lying with Paul and James on either side and all three were fast asleep. I crept back to the kitchen and enjoyed the peace of working quietly without interruption. Outside the clouds were breaking up but the sun was still hidden somewhere.

            Around four George came out, then Paul, and then the twins came running and giggling from their room. They were all a little chilled and gravitated to the warm and steamy kitchen where my second jar was immersed in bubbling water and the first was cooling on the side. I cleaned off the pear peelings and brought out the huge bags of peanuts and began shelling those for peanut butter. The twins bit open a couple of shells but gave up quickly. Paul sat with me shelling while George put on the babies' shoes, then the three of them went downstairs with their papa.

A little later James came crying from the bedroom. In his heavy sleep he had wet his pants. (When will they ever all be dry consistently?) Still sleepy, he let me help him get dressed but didn't want to go downstairs, so he sat and shelled peanuts with me. He ate most of the ones he did. (It's protein, he needs it.) He watched me place the nuts in the blender and grind them with the oil and salt until the mixture was as smooth as it would get, but still a little grainy. I poured it into a jar and put it in the refrigerator while James licked the spoon. At six o'clock the sunlight came streaming through the clouds as I was leaning out the window watching George trim the hazelnut tree. Paul was darting around behind him picking the nuts off the fallen branches.

            I called the children for dinner, then let Paul and James back out to play while we bathed the twins. Then the boys had their baths and lullabies and prayers. Once more it was quiet on the farm, except for the whine of the radio as George tried to tune in American Forces Network in Frankfurt for the latest news.

            This morning we rose to a light fog covering but not obscuring the valley below. The day was bright and the sun, when it burned through the fog, was warm. The air smelled damp and clean, with a little chill. I strung out my clothes confidently and prepared another load, while George took all four children down early to fill in some of the holes in the driveway carved out by the rain.