E Noi Dovrem Ahime, Morir....Morir....

"Il nome mio nessun sapra"

In English: "and my name no one will know"

What irony.

"Dilegua, notte! Tramontante, stella! Tramontante, stella! All'alba vincero...vincero...vincero!"

In English: "Disperse, oh night! Vanish, oh stars! Vanish, oh stars! At daybreak, I will win, I will win, I will win!"

I remember my Grandmother and my old Aunt Raimonda vividly...sitting in my Grandparents kitchen singing Italian songs...and this one always stood out. It's one of the first songs I learned completely in Italian, and even though I didn't know what I was singing, I had an inkling that there was something magical about it.

It wasn't until many years later, when I finally saw HIM sing it, and grew to learn what the words were and meant, that I realized exactly how magical it was.




Riposarse nella pace, Luciano.

My Memory Has Never Been the Best...

You know, today when I was driving to the store, I had a really good idea for a blog, but I've since forgotten what it was.

Which begs the question:

Was it really a good idea?

Because, you know, if it was so good, shouldn't I be able to remember it?

I guess some synapses must have misfired today. Or I have one less wrinkle on the old brain. Or maybe, I shouldn't think while driving.

Ghosts Appear and Fade Away

I hate introspection.

And hormones.

I hate those, too.

They both suck.

And having him in my head doesn't help either. He comes and goes. Comes and goes.

For Baby (For Gigi)

So, officially, in one day, I will be sending my not-quite-5-year-old daughter off to her first day of school. She has all of her supplies ready, her Tinkerbell backpack, her first day outfit all picked out. She's ready to go.

The problem is, someone is actually going to have to pry her from my arms Wednesday morning because there is no way in H-E double hockey sticks that I can let my baby get on that big bus. No way. She's too little. She's still just my baby girl....isn't she?

She was born on a Thursday, early in the morning, after much pushing and pain, and the moment I looked into those licorice eyes, it was all over for me. She was so beautiful, with that head of black hair and her tiny, grasping hands and baby feet. She slept and she ate and that's all she did for months, until slowly, surely, things started happening. Rolling, lifting, crawling, walking, talking. Emerging was a wisp of a girl with a very big personality. Now, nearly 5 years later, she's confident, intelligent, bossy, funny, stunningly beautiful, and so much like me it's actually scary.

I'm not ashamed to say that I don't want her to go. If I could keep her here with me forever, sheltered in her little pink room with her duckie blankie I would. I'm still not accepting that she's a school age child now, and my time as a parent to babies and toddlers is over. I guess I'm mourning a little bit. No one is completely dependent on me anymore. I don't have to feed or bathe or diaper or carry. No more soft lullabies, no more quiet moments sleeping in my arms, no more stroking her hair as she dreams in her bed.

She might cry and I won't be there to comfort her. That's my job. That's what I'm supposed to do. How do I get through the day knowing she might be sad without me and I have no way to help her be happy? How do I make it from hour to hour knowing the uncertainty she must feel?

I don't know. Maybe I'm underestimating my daughter. After all, she is one confident little chick. She'll probably be fine, playing and laughing and making friends while I'm home clutching her blankie and weeping into her pillow. Wednesday morning at 8:35 will NOT be one of my finer moments.

She's not just Daddy's rainbow, not only his pot of gold, or precious gem. She's all of those things to me too.

She's truly my bright and shining star.

I guess the house will be a bit darker during the days now.

Good luck, my girl. My little barrelina, my princess and the pea, my Gi-liscious.

You make your Mommy so proud.