After moving into this home last Spring, I decided this was it…I’m not moving again. When I repeat this promise to my kids, I get a lot of eye rolls and “You said that about the last house.” And they’re right, but I know in my heart, this is it; my forever home.
With that in mind, I’m dutifully unpacking every box and truly considering all the contents. That’s how I found this Christmas card from the past. No envelope. In 1974 I lived in Arizona, way before internet, cell phones and all that fast stuff. 99% of my communications with my family in Italy came through written letters, expensive phone calls reserved only for deaths or births announcements.
I picture my grandfather, riding his bike on a cold December morning to the town post office to buy a stamp for his granddaughter in America. That was the last Christmas card from both grandparents, although Nonno did all the writing. My grandmother died two years later, in 1976.
It took Nonno a while to resume the routine of his daily life, they had been married over 60 years. Somewhere, in a box I have yet to open, another wonderful Christmas memory awaits me. That one also in blue ink and cursive, but with only Nonno’s signature. Maybe I’ll post it next Christmas. Good memories are hard to handle. Forgive me, I’ll wish you all a Buon Natale while I go get more tissues.