We’d meet by the Ponte Vecchio around 4.30 every Christmas eve, cross the bridge together and run around Centro in a furious rush to buy presents for Mom and Nicco. Dashing from store to store our shoes hitting the cobblestones & our eyes catching the Christmas lights hanging over us, bells ringing, people rushing and the smell of chestnuts permeating our winter coats. Once we were overflowing with packages Babbo and I would weave through the crowds back over the Ponte Vecchio and home to pick up the family and off again to my aunts house for our Christmas eve feast.
This year swamped by work and commitments I had all my shopping done, mostly on line by December 1. I bragged about my organization, but as the packages arrived bringing no Christmas magic… I felt nothing.
We got our tree yesterday and the smell of pine finally began to tickle me but it was Felix chargingover to me, pulling his nappy and shorts down to moon me that really got me going. I watched and yes I was not supposed to laugh but I roared at the site of his serious face and his nakedbottom squashed up by his shorts. As I laughed he danced and rejoiced in his power.
I remember very little about the presents my father and I bought on Christmas eve, yet the memory of our outings gifts me year after year.
Felix brought Christmas to me in a moon this year I hope I can do just as much for him. For now, our first tomatoes of summer have arrived to make a salad that brings back a little Italy for me and gives usall the colours and tastes of this Australian summer holiday season.