Five times plus one

I have a still memory of the first one, when we were leaving via Ticino. It’s like a picture that I took with my eyes and developed with my mind. I was in the street, waiting for Franco’s van to leave, with all of our stuff inside. I can’t find you in that picture, but I know for sure that you were either on the van or upstairs. It was distressing for me. The first real change in my life was bringing a new house, new neighbors, new school, new classmates, new friends, new football team where to play, new public transportation lines. A new life, and I was barely 7.

The second was unexpected, unpredictable, not really wanted. The house where we moved in 2 years before gave us a bad surprise. I can still hear my mother complaining about the bins of water that we were used to collect every single day, due to the humidity. That was the place where we experienced the most freezing winter together. I can’t forget the snowman that you made for us, with the red “Happy 1993” writing sprayed on its belly.

We came back in Montesilvano, in the place that you renamed The Smurfs’ House. Fifty square meters for four giants. I could hear you snoring from every single corner of the apartment. Countless sleepless nights. Although, we loved that place. And honestly, I loved that period of my life. I faced a lot of serious challenges, I grew up a lot in that period, and not only with my body.

Seven years later, we were moving again. You never mentioned it, but I always thought that the reason of that moving was me. I became as tall as my room was wide, and you spent tons of money to get my backbone back in business. You didn’t want to face those issues again. So we took our stuff once again, and landed in the city center of Pescara.

In the meantime, I moved out for university. Bologna, L’Aquila, and, finally, Amsterdam. You helped me in most of those movings, especially when I started living with Michele and Carlo in the Santa Barbara block, in L’Aquila. How can I forget the big custom-made mattress tied to your Lancia’s ceiling? And yes, I still recall when you sneaked in after the earthquake, despite the firefighters warned you about the danger.

Despite your disease, you didn’t give up in front of our last moving. You were taking us back to Montesilvano, the place where you grow up. Close to your friends, to your family, to your people. I couldn’t help you that time, I was working in L’Aquila and arranging my departure for Amsterdam.

I’m moving again, man. It seems to be a family tradition, but I got used to it, thanks to you and your teaching. Today I started packing, and I can still hear you saying “Where the fuck are you going to put all of this stuff? Is this useful? Why don’t you trash this?”.

It’s a pity that I can’t introduce you my next roommate. She’s the kind of crazy that you would have liked since the beginning. And the very first thing you would have said is: “How could she get along with a fool like you?”.

Talk to you later for the answer.

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