"Time for gardening." My mother appears in the office calling me for her newest operation against us.
Gardening.
It started in a quite irritating way, when Francesco and I were in a hellish mood, three months ago, and she exploded. She flared up, as my father would say. She was wearing overalls and her material for tending the winter garden, invaded the office and gave the biggest speech I've ever heard in my life.
It was the only moment that Francesco and I dared to laugh genuinely in so many months.
I can't reproduce any word, but she talked about difficult pregnancies, the months we lived inside her, about the fourteen hours of labor, about children running and rolling down the stairs and about her white hair. She said that if we didn't bother to occupy her with grandchildren and th
