Belladonna

21 June 1968

Cara mia, Belladonna

I looked into a candle flame once. It became an accurate way for my logical mind to understand infinity. It had caught my attention. Perhaps it was the white tablecloth that reflected the gold candle so profoundly.

Your father and I were at a restaurant called La Perla Bianca. It was a warm evening. The restaurant was lively. Waiters danced around each other, offering fresh cibo to satisfied lovers. The red from clinking glasses of vino filled the air with colour. We stared deeply at each other, sharing our dreams to leave our hometown and pursue our burning passions in art and literature. A few men with suits and hats sat at the bar. Your father recognized them from work. They called him over from a distance.

“Federico," they waved, “Come join us for un aperitivo.”

He waved back and then kissed my hand.

“I won’t be long bella donna mia,” he said.

I watched him as he joined the men, laughing and ordering shots of grappa.

And then I noticed the candle. It was gold and stood attractively in the center of our table. I hadn’t noticed it before. The flame was prominent. When I focused on it, it grew taller. When I became distracted, it returned to normal. I became attentive. The flame was strong. Bright red with a bright blue middle. The outside world was completely out of focus. The flame consumed me. My eyes danced with its rhythm. It moved for me. It moved with me. I felt a deep sense of home within my chest. I was peaceful yet excited.

Your father touched my shoulder. I snapped back to the reality of the room. I looked at him. He looked curious.

“Your eyes have changed from brown to green. You never cease to amaze me amore’,” he kissed my cheek.

“You’re so hot!” He touched my cheek with his hand.

“Are you alright?” He seemed concerned.

I smiled and assured him I was better than ever.

“Well bella mia,” he said with his classic smile, “Pack your bags, we’re going to Milano.”

Your father was offered a position at a large and up-coming company in Milan. So, we moved. I kept painting. I sold a few pieces here and there but I painted for me. He enjoyed the work he did at the law firm. He made good money, but it was writing that was his real love. He wanted to write horoscopes. He loved the stars as much as he loved me.

We lived in a beautiful but simple house in the countryside. Surrounded by grape trees of purple and green. It was filled with everything we loved. It was our home. It had been a farm house years before, renovated as the area urbanized. The barn was the only remembrance of its old life. It had a blue roof and it gave off a sweet energy. I was immediately intrigued by it when viewing the house for buying.

“Unfortunately, it comes with the property." The estate agent had told us.

Your father and I looked at each other.

“We love it.” We said together.

“Oh, one more thing,” the estate agent said, “it comes with un asino.”

We looked at each other again.

“A donkey?”

“Si. A donkey. No one has been able to get rid of it. It wouldn’t leave with its owners and it just lives there, eating grapes. Scemo. I understand if you don’t want to take it now. Most who hear about Faro turn away.” He shrugged his shoulders.

We walked in to see him. There he was, chewing on his grapes. A dark grey donkey with a white belly and a white nose. He looked up when we entered. He was small and stole my heart from the moment we locked eyes.

Your father and I looked at each other again.

“We’ll take the house." Your father said.

“Faro included.”

We had many beautiful moons in that barn. I painted the walls while your father rolled up his sleeves, cleaning out and fixing up. We sang and danced. Faro ate his grapes. You sat in your baby chair and laughed.

You were 9 months old. It was a fresh winter’s night. I had painted a mural of a sunrise on the left wall. I was moving on to another. Your father sat near Faro, fixing his saddle. He hummed a beautiful Italian melody. I noticed something different about the wall… it had been painted before. The paint was beginning to chip and so I chipped too. One inch at a time. I began to see gold writing. I became curious and excited. Chip chip chip. The piece underneath the paint unveiled itself. It spanned across the entire a wall. A breath-taking gold map. Its inscriptions were foreign, I hadn’t understood them. I stood back and took in it. I was awestruck.

“Federico…” I called for your father.

He stood up and stood next to me. He touched the markings gently with his fingers.

“Mamma mia…” He whispered.

We deciphered that it was a map. A treasure map. Despite all odds. We read books and spent all our time trying to understand the symbols, the markings, the language of the writing. We deduced that the treasure itself was something made of diamond, the symbols told us so. We became excited in our pursuit, our understanding of this miraculous quest. We worked day and night until finally we devised a plan. We were going on an adventure.

I had just put the spaghetti in to boil. You were sleeping peacefully in your room. The howling wind prompted me to close all the windows. I heard the front door open. Your father entered cheerfully.

“Bella, I have some good news. Now, I know we agreed to keep the map and the diamonds between ourselves, but hear me out.” He put his bag down and came into the kitchen. He kissed me on my lips. I looked at him with a raised brow.

“I was working on the route at work and Nicolo saw me. He was standing over my shoulder.

“Cos'è quello? What’s that?” He asked me.

I couldn’t lie to him. So, I told him. But before you get angry, this is good news! He has connections in the airline industry. He can help us get our travel arrangements in order. He knows people in all the places we need to go. He can organize accommodations and food. And to make it easier to travel with Belladonna. This is a sign.”

I shook my head.

“No Federico. No. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Nonsense cara mia, this is the universe helping us!”

At that moment, a loud sound came from the front. A hard knocking on the door. The bang made me jump. Your father went to the door. I stood behind the kitchen door and listened.

“Buonasera. How can I help you?”

“Are you Federico?”

“Si?”

What came next changed my life forever. The gunshot sound rang throughout my whole body. I jumped backwards as my reality shattered in front of me.

“The map must be here somewhere. If the wife and daughter are here, kill them too. We want only the map.”

“Yes signore’.”

I ran to you. I grabbed you and climbed down the window while they searched the house. I ran into the barn. Faro was eating grapes. I climbed under a large mountain of hay. I soothed you in my arms. Rocking back and forth. I cried until sunrise.

I knew they would be back. The house was flipped upside down. They searched every corner. I fed you and put you to rest. I lay over your father’s body for hours. Eventually I summoned the courage to lift myself up. I gathered a small bag of your things and called our friend, Teresa. I explained to her what was happening and when she arrived, she sat next to your father’s body holding a rosary, praying for his peace. After she did the sign of the cross, we walked to the barn. She carried you in her arms.

“You know what you need to do?” I confirmed with her.

“Si.”

I walked in and put my hand over Faro’s back.

“My friend, it’s time to go.” And like the melting of a candle, he began walking with me. All the stubbornness he carried for years vanished. He left his grapes and followed me out the barn. We stood facing the barn - you, Teresa, Faro and myself. We began saddling Faro up, with the saddle your father had fixed. We placed you gently on his back, securely in place. Teresa carried your bag and held you safely on Faro.

“I’ll be back. She is my world Teresa. Keep her safe.”

“Con tutto il mio cuore. With all of my heart.” She said.

After I watched you walk away, into the depth of the day, I went back inside the house. I looked at your father’s body one last time. I picked up a gold candle, one I had bought from a market in centro Milan because it reminded me of the night at the restaurant with your father. I walked to the barn and took in its view for the last time. I lit the candle. Its flame hadn’t changed. The same flame all those years ago, reminding me of infinity. And like a slow-motion gesture, I lit the hay on fire. I watched from a distance, the barn up in flames. The sunrise I painted had come to life. If they took your father from us, I was absolutely certain I would take their map from them.

I have been on this journey for too long. I write to you today, on your 7th birthday, Belladonna, because the pain of missing you is my biggest regret. How often I have thought I should never have left you! I’ve nearly given up more times than I can say. But your father’s love has pushed me through. And today, cara mia, today I am victorious. I have finally found what I set out to find. My heart is ever full and my tears are joyful. I am heading home. I will see you again. And I will see you soon. This I know.

Buon compleanno. Happy Birthday Belladonna.

Love forever,

Mamma, e lo spirito di papa'