Hello, Pietro
My father, like my mother, died in 2016. My father died nine months after my mother passed. Having already spoken to my mother, I thought it would also be valuable to speak with Pietro.
citizenjoe
Hello, Teresa
My mother, Teresa, died in 2016 and I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since. Except for this rare discussion.
Do children ever know their parents?
Do children ever really know what their parents are like? Do they ever realise their parents have a life that’s broader and more expansive than just parenting? Do they ever…
Australia, here cometh my father
Ameriga was any place that, at the time, was richer than Sicily. In the late 1950s, that would be quite a long list. So Australia was Ameriga. A land where gold flowed in the streets, and all that was required was to stoop down and pick it up.
My mother’s keepers
I can’t imagine the conversation between my grandmother and one of her daughters-in-law. The subject is my mother, Teresa.
My corona-love
She looks around and approaches. Our faces are so close I savour the scent of the anti-bacterial spray used to thoroughly clean her plexi face protector.
Dear God
People often ask me what it feels like to be literally married to something or something that you’ve never seen and never will.
The happy ever after
No one ever prepares you for “happy ever after”. No stories ever continue into that realm of the kingdom. Was this always inevitable and COVID has just sped up it’s arrival?
“Think, think, think”
He had always been told by his mother to think before he acted. “Think once, so you don’t have to think twice” she had said. “Think, think, think, boys and…
Do you come here often?
“Oh,” he suddenly realised his error, and quickly grabbed his drink from the bar “I apologise again …”