Miriam 35 – Happy Easter Andre! And happy Easter to those who today experimented their first “pastiera”, “torta pasqualina” or “casatiello”, to those who had lunch in video conference, to those who were woken up by screaming children, dying to open their first chocolate eggs. Happy Easter to those who listened, in streaming, to the morning Easter mass, to those who blessed the lunch without the olive branch and the holy water, but with an orange scented water instead. Happy Easter to those who thanked God for being safe and sound. Happy Easter to those who are healing, those who are fighting and those who are sacrificing themselves for others, today as well. Happy Easter to those who really want to go out but don’t, out of respect for others. Happy Easter to those who have reassured their parents, grandparents, for the umpteenth time, by saying “don’t worry, everything will be fine, I’ll see you soon”. Happy Easter to who is a mum for the first time and to the mums-to be. Happy Easter to those who spent the day by watching TV, to those who said hello to the neighbour, to those who are rehearsing for a future marital connivance. Happy Easter to those missing their job at Ikea, to those who celebrate their birthday next Friday, to those who celebrated it yesterday. Happy Easter to those, like me, who miss hugs, to those telling me to not give up. Happy Easter to those obsessed with theatre so much to always mention it, to those who have changed shifts to be able to greet their guests.
Happy Easter to those who yesterday were feeling fragile, I really hope today was a better day.
Happy Easter to you, dear travelling companions in these thousand red kilometres.
Andrea 35 – Happy Easter Miriam. An Easter like any other, at least in my thoughts. I woke up early this morning, even though I haven’t been eager to wake up to open the chocolate eggs for 30 years now. April’s sun is always the same, as every year, the one misleading you because during the day, you wear a t-shirt and it looks like July, but at night you have to put on a denim jacket, the one you used to wear when you were a kid and you left in your childhood home because you wear it only once a year. On Easter day. We went to Benevento, even today. On Skype. As my dad said, when he made his blessing before lunch, “we are all at Antonio and Marina’s home (my cousins in Benevento), like every year, and behind me are the bottles of wine, as usual”. Valentina, Cecilia and I, from Turin, were there as well, and Armando and Stefania from their home, Giulia and Federica from Rome, and Aunts Anna and Telly from Naples too. The scent at the beginning of the lunch is always the same, cooked salami and warm bread: it’s the casatiello, made by following the recipe that was Grandma’s first and then Mary’s, who are always with us. Then we all had the same second course, lamb. And we cooked potatoes in many different ovens, but they all seemed to have the same taste, the taste of the many Sundays and holidays spent together. Then we sat on the sofa, waiting for Marina’s coffee. Since she wouldn’t come, I had to (video)call her and make it myself, while eating the last piece of a pastiera I bought in Turin. I really had to try very hard to pretend it tasted like the one Aunt Lydia makes evert year. Even Proust would have yielded in front of such difference. But it’s still an Easter like any other, at least in my thoughts.