What I Understood

 Family Story Through Antoinette’s Father’s Eyes:

“I remember 1924 (?) when your mother” indicating Louisa “left on the shoulders of your grandmother. They packed up their bags, walked down the dirt road, bag in hand, your mother on the shoulders of her father, and they left for America. That was the last time I saw them.”

He is almost 91 or 95 years old. He speaks only in Genovese with a low, gravelly voice—that of an old man who probably smoked for a good portion of his life. As he talks he gestures with his hands. His left hand has a constant curled shape due to the lack of the ends of his ring and index fingers. Dirt and grime are permanently grooved into his nails and stained into his cuticles. His skin is leathery from years of working in the garden under the Mediterranean sun. His wrinkled face has not lost its ability to shows great animation when describing memories. His large bushy eyebrows express his animation as his slightly glazed eyes gaze intently at your face to make sure you understand what it is he is describing to you. What remains of his hair is thin and white, sticking out in a rather unkempt manner. When he talks, his crooked, well-used, coffee-stained teeth peek out from thin, chapped lips.

“I remember when there were only FOUR cars here in Varaze! Everyone walked. People had horses, but you did not use them to move, you walked.”

“But people used bicycles?” Louis asked confused.

“No no, no one had bikes at this time… not yet. It was easier to walk. I remember I walked to your mother’s house. It would take me an hour to get there.”

Then Antoinette served us plates full of ravioli with a nocci sauce and we all began to talk about and eat the amazing lunch she had prepared for us.