Zanotti at our feet. Giuseppe in our hearts

Art is the power to mold materiality into your spiritual projects

Art is the ability to go on believing in your talents though world does not recognize you

Art is the opportunity to transform a simple piece of leather in a unique piece.

Passion can be expressed through a physical gesture

Passion can be showed with a song from the heart

Passion can be be found in the design of a simple shoe.

Shoes are part of our daily walks.

Shoes are part of our magic moments.

Shoes are part of our life.

When passion and art meet in a piece of leather,

When a very narrow signature appears on the edge of your shoes.

When you want only the best for your daughter’s wedding.

The only choice we had was to come to you. And ask you to dream for her shoes that she will never forget.

And this is what we got.

Thank you Giuseppe for making your passion and art being part of our special day.

She is my mother…believe it or not…

There are people who use special treatments to look younger. who spend money on creams, on pastes, on masks, on make ups. Who retire for several weeks in far and secret  places in order to reappear suddenly with a smoother and teenager looking face. Who spend hours in front of the mirror waiting for a miracle performed by Heaven. There are other people wo don’t have time for special creams and treatments. Who run after their children since the age of 20 without sleeping for 19 years. Who wake up in the morning with the feeling of not having a chance to close the eyes for more than 10 minutes. Who run after their children for years and years tryuìing to concile job and family without letting noticing to one world the existence of the second one. Who go around to shop with their daughters before their wedding and suddenly realize that maybe all the efforts of starting young, when her friends were still enjoying and playing, her adult life, with a family of her own, were worthy. Because most of the sellers of the shops just stop and ask her daughter to come back with her mother and not with her sister. And the daughter, smiling, turns towards her mother and for the hundreth time says: I know you don’t notice it but actually she is not my friend nor my sister. she is my mother..Believe it or not…

A wish list

Here’s a short list of what I would still like to do with you.
I would like to breast feed you some more
I would like to teach you to walk again
I would like to repeat with you ‘mummy’ slowly as once
I would like to push you on the swing for the hundredth time without complaining
I would like to take you again to first grade hand in hand
I would like to reassure you before the vaccination
I would like to hug you after a bad dream
I would like to tell you that I love you though you have scattered all your toys
I would like to teach you my preferred song
I would like to dance with you while you are dressed in that fluffy and shiny pink dress
I would like to embrace you at the age of 10
I would like to eat with you those chocolates in which you invested all your money at the age of 12 and for which I shouted you for two days
I would like to lie down in the bed with you counting the florescent stars we attached on the ceiling
I would like to understand some more what you were thinking at the age of 14

I would like to kiss you goodnight at the age of 16 even though you were not hanging the phone

I would like to go around for shopping once again without looking at the watch

I would like to fill the air with all my love for you and let you smell only this smell for the past 19 years.

I would like…read it again and again, my sweet love and try not to forget any of these wish list points with your future, with G-d’s help, kids…

A dream, a knapsack and a shouting baby

Who could imagine your taste for nice clothes, that made us spend so much during the last 19 years, would have been one day so apreciated by someone?

Who could imagine your love for good food, that sometimes forced you to make rush diets, would have once transformed you in the best cook ever?

Who could imagine your dream of being dressed in a fluffy gown, that made you draw so many dresses on your schoolbooks, would have become real one day?

Who could imagine your special brown eyes, that made you call ‘princess’ after 10 minutes you were in this world, would have become one day so laughing and so charming?

Who could imagine our freedom lover, who was dreaming to cross all the world with a knapsack on her back, would have one day loved to stay home waiting for a phone call?

Who could imagine a girl who loved to sleep and woke up for 19 years with an angry expression on her face, could one day wake up with a smile for the coming day?

Who could imagine that little girl cheating during the memory game, going under the glass table and looking at all the cards, would have one day become a woman as you are today?

Who could imagine we would have arrived to that day, during which we should  be preparing mentally to this, with G-d’s help, wonderful and happy life trip while still not able to believe our baby is already at this important step?

Who could imagine one day we will have to let our little shouting, always sleeping, smart, dreaming baby, become his beloved lady?

back to the past…

Mum, if you could go back in time, would you get married so young again?
I pour the coffee on my skirt while the bride, after having thrown as a stone in the sea her philosophical question, is sitting in front of me writing on her bbm to a destination that is across the Ocean.
Well…I start thinking. This is a trap. Pay attention, I say to myself. Be calm, don’t answer too quickly. I breath deeply. I relax. And memories come back to me as birds going back to their nests. My first child as a baby, with her giant brown eyes, while pronouncing her first word, learning to read, hugging me on her way back from camp. My second neverstopping hunger, his haircut at the age of three, fighting with the sister. My third child opening her blue eyes for the first time, being defined ‘the sun of the class’ at the age of 5. My fourth child preferred video, his allergy to the detergent. My fifth child ceasarian, his being so small compared to my prevoius babies. My sixth child being the copy of the third one, her way of jumping while singing the Chanuka song about the doughnuts. My seventh child sleepless nights, his unique way of saying ‘amen!’ to every good thing we wish.
The coffee has dried on my skirt. The bride is still writing bbms maybe having forgotten the quetion she made some minutes ago. I wake up from my journey in the past. I take her hand and I tell her: You know what? I would never change one thing of my life. If I had the opportunity to start everything again, I would do all exactly the same. I would get married at 19, have you at the age of 20, go on studying in university, having your brothers and sisters, working, writing, sitting with you here in our kitchen trying to come out from this mad plan of getting married in five weeks…I would never change anything, believe me. Though it was hard, sometimes very tough. Becuase the amount of love I received every day in my life is the most precious thing I will ever own. And I would never give up to it for all the freedom in the world….

Please G-d…

Please G-d, give me the energy to smile to her mess.
To laugh when she scatters.
To pretend it’s a joke.
Please G-d, give me the strenght to be positive to her problems.
To think good when it’s dark,
To find out the right side in a wrong event.
Please G-d, make me a mother worthy of this name.
Worthy of waking her up in the morning letting the sun in the room.
Worthy of calling her name as the sweetest thing in the world.
Please G-d avoid listening to me when I am angry at her.
When I raise my voice trying to make her listen to my words.
When I loose my self control trying to get back the phone.
Please G-d, I know that I ask you for so many things.
For health, for healing from illnesses, for 120 years of good life.
For supporting us in an honorable way, letting us the opportunity to help others too.
For gratification from my children, whom I want to be the most righteus persons.
But I know that You are infinite and there is nothing beyond You.
And so I have a last request, that comes directly from my heart.
Make me enjoy this mad period as the best in the world.
Because I know for sure that in the precise second she will leave my home, I will understand how beautiful every detail, even the most insignificant, was.
Please G-d.
And thank you too.

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Don’t steal my life…

I want back my life, I want back my breaths,I want back my cries, I want back my smiles. I want back my days, i want back my nights. I want to be there, back in time, with the knowledge of today. Able to apreciate a baby’s cry, a diaper change, a loving little hand looking for yours during the night. Able to love children talks in the hours preceeding an university exam day. Able to tell between those important things G-d offers you everyday. And the very insignificant one He puts you during life in order to confise you a little bit. Able to live every single minute as the best present you could be ever offered. Able to to attach the ‘negative’ etiquette to things that really deserve it. And attach the’positive’ one to things that deserve it too. Maybe this is the reason why G-d made children grow up with parents: In order for their ears to be always full of words that remind them life ‘is like a flash’. At 12 p.m of a Tuesday morning 1992 you look at your baby in a hospital crib. And at 12 p.m of a Tuesday morning 2011 you look at your baby in a white wedding gown…

That was easy…

wireless BlackBerry

From: gheula.canarutto@sdabocconi.it
Date: Tue, 11 Oct
To:Anna
Subject: that was easy

Dear Anna,
I just wanted to thank you. Yesterday, when I met you in the pizza store, I did not think it would be so useful. I mean, I really liked it. But I thought it was only for fun. I didn’t think it could have magic powers. But it does. I was parking yesterday. In a very narrow place. After 5 minutes of sweating and swearing I will go around Milan only riding buses, I could do it. I parked my car. In the same instant in which I turned the key and I prepared to get down from the car a voice came from my bag: that was easy. I burst into the biggest laugh of the last month making people who were walking on the sidewalk think I just came out from a bar maybe having too much wine. Today I called an important person which can really help me with a project of mine. She was so kind with me, so ready to help me, I was really surprised. It was months I wanted to call her. It took two minutes to realize that it was not so hard. Or, as your present shouted in the room, after I invited it to express its opinion: That was easy. No, believe me, everything is but easy. Dressing nine people for a wedding, thinking about what they will wear during all the parties (sheva brachot) after the wedding, organizing singer, players, flowers, invitations (in three languages), guests, hotel rooms, car rentals, food (this I need to remember should be prepared every day, not only for the wedding…), managing daily children problems, giving them attention, finding time for a special hug is NOT easy. But, Anna, you are right. When I reach a goal I push on your special box. And the voice that exclaims loud: that was easy, reminds me, that after all, people get married every day and no child appeared in underwear in his sister’s wedding, no bride arrived to the her special day wearing a jeans skirt, no guest found tables without tableclothes in the wedding hall. Thank you Anna for being there and remind me all of this.

P.s Anna gave me as a present a special red toy that, whenever you push it, it shouts: That was easy! I recomend it to everyone:)

just two choices

my sweet little baby, seeing you coming out from this red curtain, dressed with this soft white fabric,inside this shop for brides, gives me two choices. the first one is just to close my eyes, lean on the chair where i am sitting and just start living my life again. here I am. Nursing you when you are 2 hours old, trying to feed you with healthy vegetables and getting smashed zucchini on my face. waking you up in the morning trying to be stronger than you and not going back to sleep with you. washing away the tears from your face when you fall down during your first biking. clapping my hands for your first piano concert after only two months of lessons. speaking with you on the phone trying to comfort you for being thousands of miles away from home in order to get a better education. kissing you when you baked your first chala during your school holiday. The second choice is just to open my eyes and start realizing that all this is true. that my little baby is grown up (not so much yet, but enough to find a soul mate) ready to fly away frm home towards a new nest leaving her mother with a constant thought: Did I give her all I wanted to? I have no anwer. but only a strong hope.

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….