The Smile Of The Moon. Klaus Zambiasi

to be a great day, I could tell when I

      peeked out of my eyes and saw the sunrays shine as far as

      the bedroom.’

      I wasn’t expecting that, it’s a real surprise, usually when grandma comes they tell me some days in advance, while this time…

      About every fourteen days, often on a Sunday, but also during the week, on Tuesdays for example, our house and my heart are decked to their best, as soon as I finish breakfast I run to the bus stop to hug her as soon as I can.

      If she’s on time, she arrives at 10 in the morning, I always look forward to this moment. I see the bus arriving, I jump up and down impatiently, it gets closer to the stop, it stops, a friendly and intriguing noise, a whistle from the opening doors tgssschhhh and then they shut tgssschhhh toc.

      The bus struggles a bit to start up again with a big smoke, suddenly grandma’s silver hair appears and her sweet and charming smile wins me over as if it was a lover’s, it’s a childlike joy.

      She always brings something for me, but she herself is the best present possible. When we return home, I help her carrying her bag and I fill her in with the latest news. We climb a mild slope, and after the first bend we can already see our house. It’s so beautiful to walk hand in hand on the dirt road while Mamma Barbara waves at us in the distance.

      When I’m between them both and I hear them discuss or talk about me, about the pranks I pull with Oswald and the other kids, I feel like in a circle of sensations and pathos, coming to a close in that very moment I’m experiencing.

      Grandma and mamma Barbara have become very close friends. Barbara always says every time grandma comes to visit us it’s like a holiday for her too, she won’t do anything for the whole day apart from spending time with me and her.

      During the week there’s a lot of work to do here between the house, the family and the stable, but at least for a day she can rest for a bit and take a break from the country life routine.

      For grandma’s arrival, Mamma Barbara always cooks some traditional Alto Adige dishes which are so good, as well as traditional desserts such as strudel. They talk for hours on end, they have so many things to share with each other, it’s as if they are in a confessional. I believe having the chance to speak with a trustworthy and understanding friend such as grandma also works as a safety valve for mamma Barbara. After all, grandma has lived through both World Wars and seen it all. Her stories and anecdotes, which she describes with enjoyable intensity and emphasis, intrigue me too, I have a hunch I’ll be hearing these tales again and again.

      Looking at them with attention while they speak, I notice they have the same soft cheeks and the same sweet smile, kind of hardened by their intense lives. Some faces are like books, you can almost read a person’s impressions and characteristics without a word from them, but for a child it’s better to hear adult people calmly talking all around them, it’s like music.

      It gives you a certain sense of security, it’s like an invisible blanket wrapping you inside, it’s like love, you unconsciously record the voices and the many undefinable sensations.

      I feel like there’s a strong bond with grandma, it’s as if she’s my guide, a channel between two worlds, the first is mamma Barbara’s, the second is grandma Anna’s, who for four years now has been coming up to see me every two weeks.

      At my age of four I’ve never asked myself whose mother she was, if she’s my paternal grandmother or… she certainly can’t be my maternal grandmother, since Barbara’s not her daughter.

      Papa Karl has his own mother, she’s already almost ninety and she lives near us in the town, she looks after the chickens and the many cats we have.

      Our holiday slowly draws to a close and starts getting tinged with melancholy, as soon as evening arrives grandma must go back home to Bolzano.

      I’d never want to hand her cloak, if only I could stop her from leaving:

      â€˜Couldn’t you just stay over for some more days?'

      â€˜I’d gladly stay here with you, but you know I have work to

      do in my fields and in my garden and my son is waiting for

      me too. Just wait and see, I’ll be back soon, two weeks will

      fly by.’

      As I walk with her at the bus stop I receive her last advice and I tell her some of my wishes for our next encounter.

      Now I give her a small kiss and I hug her long and hard, she slowly walks up the bus’s steps while I follow her with my gaze, half amused, half blue. As if in slow motion, I enjoy every instant of her departure, then she sits next to the window and I wave her goodbye. The bus starts up with its usual black smoke, but now it’s going downhill. I wait until I see the bus disappear between the hairpin turns and the tunnels, and I stay motionless, listening to the bus’s rumble disappear in the distance.

      With that clumsy noise still in my ears I head home full of hope for her next visit, and at any rate happy since I’m running back to mamma Barbara.

      Happy times always pass the fastest, as soon as you start enjoying them they’re already over. When I open the garden gate the smell of tomatoes freshly watered by mamma Barbara envelops me. The sunflowers are all turned towards the end of the valley, where the sun’s already set, all of them looking towards Bolzano as if they were also following grandma’s homecoming.

      In the kitchen the cakes’ smell is still hovering and tickling my appetite, the toy grandma brought me is on the table, I pick it up carefully and take it to my room. I’m hungry and the soup’s already on the table and we eat supper together.

      The following days pass by tranquilly, the usual routine, until the weekend, Saturday that is.

      Some people have come to visit us, an elegant lady, Giuseppina, accompanied by two equally elegant men. They must be mamma Barbara’s friends, even though it doesn’t look like she knows them, the encounter’s very informal.

      Anyway, they’re nice and pleasant, especially one of the two men who’s very cheerful and tells lots of jokes, it must be his thing. The lady’s brought me a beautiful present, a battery locomotive that is now running fast across the living room, it’s got a light on the front making a sound like uhhhhhuuuuuu uhhhhuuuuuu.

      It’s as if it’s mad with joy, when it touches an obstacle it turns around and carries on regardless, I like it, I’m so fascinated by this toy that I almost can’t stop listening to its sound.

      They’re drinking coffee with mamma Barbara, and they’re talking, about me as well, after all I’m the youngest in the family. The lady often smiles at me and I smile back, she’s kind of mysterious, it’s almost like at some point her eyes are going to reveal a secret to me.

      When these nice hours in the company of our guests are over, it’s time to say goodbye to them, the lady almost starts to cry, maybe it’s because she felt nice here with us.

      She’s sorry to leave, as lots of people have been time and time again around here. When they’ve left, Mamma Barbara hugs me tight and kisses me on the forehead, she’s also happy they’ve come to visit us.

      â€˜You know, I’m always happy when someone pays us a visit

      us and I can offer them something good and we can have

      some company. That lady already came once, you know,

      with her brother and a friend.’

      I couldn’t remember them obviously, I must have been too young, so Barbara takes out some photographs in which we are together, the elegant lady is holding me in her arms. In another picture I’m sitting on a small red pedal tractor, with a little red coat