Free War in My Town by E. Graziani Page B

“I think so,” he answered without raising his eyes. “He can be strong and very resourceful.”
    “Yes, Cesar is right,” said Aurelia, draping an arm around our mother. “He’ll be back. As loud and boisterous as ever.” She forced a laugh.
    Mamma wiped her eyes. Even with this heaviness in her heart, this great sadness, she maintained her dignity and strength. She held up her head. “Wherever he is, I pray that he knows we are holding him in our hearts. Buon natale , Merry Christmas.”
    “Buon natale,” we repeated. Outside, it smelled like snow, but in our kitchen, the fire in the hearth burned warm and bright.

Chapter 15
    Snow fell on the mountain peaks like sugar dusting a panettone . In Eglio, food became ever more scarce in the winter months. Food rations had been in place now for four years and some of the younger children could not remember a time when the cupboards and pantries were full.
    The war raged on, its tentacles reaching into every part of our lives. January gave way to the harsh winds of February, its skies cold and gray, and soon March with its heavy rain was upon us. The arrival of another spring was just weeks away and still there was no end in sight to the war. The hope that the Allies would soon bring liberation faded.
    I was maturing and becoming a young woman before my mother’s eyes. Next month, in April, I would turn fifteen. My schooling would soon finish and in normal times, I would be searching for work. But times were not normal. So my friends and I kept busy, sewing, and gathering food from wherever we could find it. We read and told stories and talked of what we’d do when life returned to normal.
    “What will you do first, when the war ends?” whispered Armida. It was just before Easter and we were seated in the front pews of our little church.
    “Let me think,” mused Beppina, her chin resting on her hands folded over the back of our pew. Her blonde hair spilled out from under her headscarf and cascaded over her shoulders. We were in church but not entirely engrossed in our Easter novena, a special prayer said in the days leading up to Easter. “Maybe, I’ll go to Castelnuovo when the marketplace resumes. I want to buy new boots, the ones lined with fur. And they need to have fancy heels and shiny buckles. What about you, Zelinda?” Zelinda was Beppina’s older sister.
    “Do you really need to ask?” she responded with a glare. “I want Alcide to come back safe and sound.” Her voice was impatient and her eyes began to well up. She looked up to the altar again, her hands clasped and continued to pray.
    “Of course, Zelinda,” said Beppina apologetically, surprised at her own insensitivity. “I’m so sorry.” Beppina turned to Armida. “What about you?” she whispered with a guilty side glance.
    Armida thought hard, her dark eyes narrowing in deliberation. “Well, of course I want my brother back, too.” Lino, her brother was stationed at the Russian front, along with Edo’s brother, Mario. “I want him home safe. Once he is home, I will go to the marketplace to buy a new dress to celebrate.” She smiled and looked at the cherubs painted on the ceiling. “Yes, a new dress. Mine are all in tatters.” She looked at the dress she was wearing and ran a hand over the hem, a patch of strategically place fabric sewn carefully onto the side of it.
    “And you, Bruna?” asked Armida.
    I swallowed and thought of my brother. And then to the turnips and potatoes I had for lunch. “Alcide, of course,” I said solemnly. “And after that, I’d want to celebrate by going to a restaurant.” My face almost reluctantly burst into a broad smile as I recalled the last time I had dined in a trattoria in Castelnuovo. My nonno and nonna had done business in Castelnuovo, selling their cheeses, vegetables, and fruits from their farm to the merchants. I would tag along sometimes and they would treat me to lunch. I remembered it well. The bumpy donkey ride on the narrow