Sunday, March 10, 2013

"You know better but I know him ... "

Things are back to a relative normal.

Yep, he was here. There was proof of that everywhere.
But now he's gone. And so are the breadcrumbs he habitually left on the kitchen counter. The ruckus of semi-pro boxing that blared from the television at deafening decibels. The awkwardness of my laundering giant, oddly-stained tightie whiteys.

He was teary-eyed as I loaded him onto the minibus headed for JFK International. He thanked me profusely, apologizing. It was sad. I have to admit, I will miss the guy. He is, after all, family. He means well.  And there's a lot to be learned from cohabiting with anyone for any period of time. Living with him was no picnic, to be sure. But for him, living with us was no bowl of cherries, either.

Arrivederci, Nonno. Ti vogliamo bene.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BgzrfUA8lo


6 comments:

  1. we took in my tante marta for a number of years: 90 years old. it was an eye-opener for everyone. she had a strong personality, but was willing to bend. likewise, we had to make many concessions to give her space and familiarity. it's not like a housemate you've chosen. it's the housemate chosen for you.

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  2. so... is that note written in dandruff?

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    1. So far, the guesses have been ... sugar, shaving cream, salt, and now dandruff. All good guesses. They are breadcrumbs. He is like the Italian version of Schulz's Pigpen, and seems to have a cloud of breadcrumbs that follow him where ever he goes! I'd love to see your illustrated interpretation of that!

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  3. And, I'm sure there were plenty of crumbs on the floor as well!

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  4. Love this entry! How did I miss it? :)

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