Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“It’s a two-part process. One part is easy and the other part is a little harder.”
I smile. “Will you share your secret with me?”
She smiles back, her eyes glowing with joy. “Of course. Keep homemade hazelnut cookies in your pocket, and never ever give any harmful thoughts a chance to fester in your mind.”
I frown. No wonder the squirrel dashed away at my arrival. I have no cookies and I’m literally brimming over with harmful thoughts. “I’m afraid I’d find it impossible to accomplish the second part.”
She laughs, a carefree sound. “But that’s the easy part.”
I join her in laughter. I like this lovely, kind-hearted old woman, and I wish I could spend more time with her, but I can already hear Isabella calling out to me.
“Coming,” I shout before I turn back to the wonderful soul sitting in front of me. “Tell me what you have learned after 102 years of living on this earth.”
There is a far-away look in her eyes. “That every second of life is beautiful, immeasurably, stupendously so.”
I stare at her with astonishment. “How can you say that when you belong to a family where violence and ugliness is second nature?”
She smiles softly. “Ah, you want to change the world. Fill it with light and goodness.”
“Yes,” I admit. That is what drew me to Thomas in the first place because it is what he too wants to do.
She shakes her head. “In that case, my dear child, you will never be happy. Everything is already perfect, you just can’t see it, because you think it should be different.”
“Are all the wars raging around the world perfect?” I challenge.
“Humanity has always waged wars on itself. I have lived through two world wars, and it’s true they were terrible times, but some of the most beautiful moments in my life happened while my stomach rumbled for food and bombs rained down upon us.”
I hear my name called again and when I turn my head, I see Isabella standing at the edge of the party beckoning me with her hand.
“You must go. You are the guest of honor,” Nonna Fabiola says.
“I’m coming,” I shout and wave at Isabella, before turning back to look at Nonna Fabiola’s gentle face.
“A friend of mine is in an impossible situation. Can you please give her some words of wisdom, please?”
She shrugs and opens her clasped hands in a typically Italian gesture of acquiescence.
“Well, um… circumstances that cannot be altered have forced her to forsake the man she loves and marry a man she detests and she doesn’t know what to do to solve her problem.”
“If the circumstances cannot be altered then she must accept her marriage as a priceless gift.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“No woman will willingly choose to have a child with Down syndrome, and yet, how curious it is that every mother who gives life to such a child will sincerely swear she has been bestowed with a divine gift. When my cat was terminally ill ten winters ago, she would sometimes suffer terrible diarrhea in the early hours of the morning. By the time I had shampooed and dried Appolonia, and cleaned the floor, I couldn’t go back to sleep so I would wrap myself in thick blankets and go out into the garden with her. We would watch the night creatures while we waited for dawn to break. They were some of the most precious times of my life, my dying Appolonia curled up in my arms as the sun rose above the frozen lake. If she had not fouled the house and made it too smelly to live in, I would never have known those unforgettable moments.”
I frown with confusion. “But what about when you lost Appolonia? Wasn’t that a terrible moment?”
Her face becomes tender with the memory of her dead cat. “On the contrary. Appolonia’s passing was beautiful. I held her in my arms as her life ebbed away, but a few moments before she left her ravaged body, she transcended pain and looked at me with pure love shining in her eyes. In that moment she taught me that death is not to be feared. When we discard our bodies, we go elsewhere, and we go whole and unblemished.”
“Francesca,” Isabella calls again, but this time her voice is nearer. I glance back and see her walking towards us.
“It is time for you to go, but please tell your friend to look for the beauty in her suffering and sacrifice… and the hate she feels in her heart will turn into the greatest love she has ever known.”
“Thank you, Nonna Fabiola. I’ll tell my friend what you said,” I whisper and stand.
She smiles, and the joy inside her pours out of her body and reaches out to touch me.
“Goodbye, child. You have a beautiful life waiting for you. Embrace it. Every marvelous second.”