A SWEET STORY LIKE A COUP OF TEA

A SWEET STORY LIKE A COUP OF TEA  

Moneglia (Ge), August 1969.

A warm summer, full of colors, of perfumes, a small town full of tourists, music, party nights.

One of the many wonderful holidays of the sixties of the economic boom, of people who needed a cheerful little tune to start a special day.

A nice vacation, in a quiet hotel in the middle of the green, near a small road that led to a mountain resort and the green river a short distance away, made her gurgling in the silence of sunny afternoons.

We, two carefree and lively children, Elida and Giampaolo, at 17.00 on that afternoon of August 1st, we had not gone to the beach, the heat was really torrid, our dads and mothers, they wanted to make an excursion only for adults up to Lemeglio, the village not far from the top of the mountain above Moneglia.

We children stayed with my grandmother in the hotel almost happy to be without the reproaches and duties dictated by our loved ones.

Elegant as they used to be in the sixties with the dress of the afternoon, she in a blue dress with pink flowers, with the headband on her black hair and the dancers with a bow at her feet. I wore a white linen shirt with light blue profiles and light blue shorts with a belt the same as a shirt and with light white leather sandals, obviously with strictly embroidered white socks.

We sat like two sweethearts under the umbrellas in the garden. The owner's daughter brought us two cups of hot tea and some cream biscuits along with two glasses of water to cool that spicy and good tea.

We sit on the Liberty style chairs under the palms and start our conversations of little summer vacation sweethearts. Important conversations other than toys and children's stuff: the existence on other planets and stars, under the watchful and amused eyes of my grandmother who sipped her juniper-flavored tea.

How beautiful and tanned her grandmother was, with those dark eyes and very black hair gathered behind her neck.

He had a white smile that stood out on that bright green dress, he smiled at us but his eyes betrayed malice, love and sweetness.

She laughed hearing us talk about vague stars and strange forms of life, with aliens with yellow or blue bodies, Elida said they had red blond hair like mine but green eyes like her beautiful dad.

I was sure that their bitches were tall, blackberries with a pink mouth like her, Elida ...

Grandmother was joined by her boyfriend and together they enjoyed our speeches, their embrace started mine towards the child in front of me, spilling a glass of water, Elida was quicker gave me a kiss on the cheek: "Do not you I'll never forget, "he said as I felt my face burn ... A warm breeze brought us a light scent of oleander between us.

It had been a beautiful and sweet holiday with the aroma of spicy tea with a slight scent of Oleander ... Unforgettable.

I didn't see her again, I know she lived in Milan, my city; in via Padova or Palmanova ...

Sometimes I wonder where it ended up. Who knows what will have happened?

But perhaps it is more beautiful to remember that moment as a picture painted in memory, forever.

Giampaolo Daccò Dos Lerèn