Last Friday, con’t:

Back in Casa Mazza, I was online, courtesy of Signor Manuel. Emails from Sarah and Giulia. Much fun. I wrote Sarah a decent reply seeing how she enjoyed my past five emails (“greatly entertaining and thought-provoking”, she put it). As for Giulia, well, she informed me she’s off to some mountains somewhere but promised to write me in a month’s time. I suppose my reply to her can wait a bit …

Feeling cheery enough, I galloped downstairs into the kitchen to find Manuel kneading pizza dough. We were having calzone that night, Manuel fulfilling a passing promise he made me. It looked like hard work, teaching them dough who’s boss, and it was. Bravo, Manuel! He had flour on his shirt and on his face but I suppose that’s the price you pay for freshly made pizzas.

When he was satisfied with his handiwork, I joined him for the final step of filling up the pieces of dough (with tomatoes, ham, ricotta and mozzarella) and folding them over. Don’t tell his family this, but we kept forgetting to include the finishing dab of olive oil and pinch of salt. It still tasted good in the end, and that’s all that matters.

The calzones came out of the oven perfect.

Sitting around the dinner table outside on a cool summer evening with the children running around playing is not an experience I get too much these days, more the pity. Such days are to be savoured, while they lasted.

Alessandro was impish as ever, pinching and hitting his zio with a plastic hammer. Serena stayed in her grandma’s arms, just gushing with laughter. They remind me very much of my own nephew and niece, Leon and Chanel.

I think I have missed my family more that night than I have had in a long time. There was time to remember and regret the distance and the oceans. Yet there was nthing dreadful about it. Instead it felt good. It felt true.

Manuel and I strolled around in the garden, looking at the stars that were out in the black, cloudless sky. Serena and Alessandro had earlier looked for their grandpa in the sky amongst the stars, their little fingers pointing assuredly at one star or another. The conviction of innocents.

The stars are memories where we hold our dearest ones.

They looked all the more incredible with the mountains as a magnificent backdrop. I envy this dickhead for growing up with these mountains in his frontyard. How cool is that?

He told me how, once when his parents were away and he had a party in his house (and got completely shit-faced with his friends, of course), his friend Stefano looked at the mountains from the balcony and declared them to be the Milky Way. We laughed at his memory of this but maybe Stefano was right after all.

There was a whole universe across the rocks.

Before turning back to the house (for some pre-bed TV, David Letterman with Mike Myers reminding us of a certain Mr. Stone), I looked at the night sky one more time. Like the children, I too looked for my Grandpa fra la stelle.

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Copyright © 2002 Kenny Mah Ying Fye.