day 1. Who am I?

Wake up. Alarm is ringing already since 10 minutes. Another 5 please…

mum, ciao.

Ciao amore, I will be with you in…

Now!!!I want the milk now!!!

ok.

Thank G-d for being alive, wash your hands, put your feet on the floor. Start a new day. A normal new day. Children are already sneezing, fever is around. but not enough to keep them far from school. Fast dressing, breakfast swallowed at a guinees speed..

8.30 a.m

silence.

no noise. (read it slowlly, take a deep breath, imagine yourself sitting on the sofa and having the mental energy to open a prayer book) good.

this was me at 8.30 a.m of  September 14th.

some minutes before everything in my life changed.

a few instants before the thrilling news.

a bunch of seconds before the telephone rang, a familiar voice spoke.

and  my daughter announced she wanted to get engaged.

From then nothing is the same. not me (it seems to me I just have two new wrinkles), nor my name (it seems that my new name on the passport is mother in law. everyone who meets me calls me in this way), not my home (how could we live until now in a place where a son in law should sleep on the sofa and cannot not have his own bed?) nor my cellphone (I received more text messages and phone calls then Obama on his election day). Not my identity. Who am I now? a 39 years old woman? a mother? a wife? A writer? a…..(very very hard to write) future mother in law???? how many new identities I will conquer during life span?

p.s don’t mention the being a grandmother item. it is still a forbidden expression as the word communism during mccarthyism….

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