Every time I watch The Wizard of Oz again, I smile at Dorothy, the curious and brave little girl who, after an extraordinary journey, understands that there’s no place like home. That’s how I feel too, even as a retired grandmother.
Now that time is a gift, I love walking in the mountains and discovering new places. But I always return to my home: I lean on the window sill and my gaze runs to my mountains. The Tre Cime del Bondone, Cima Sèra, Valandro, Piz and Gazza always enchant me.
The San Lorenzo of today is no longer the one from my youth, but it still lives on in my memories and in the black-and-white photographs I keep with care. Back then there were four bars, three butcher’s shops, a petrol station. There was even a cinema, where I took turns working as the cashier, and a laundry with a tailor. I think of my mother, a tireless seamstress of trousers, and my father, a truck driver and trader. They were simple times, but full of life.
I remember the village Carnivals with affection. The floats were born from months of work. There was enthusiasm, sharing, a sense of community that today is somewhat missing. Unforgettable was the float dedicated to Professor Barnard’s first heart transplant. Today those memories have a veil of sweet nostalgia, because they take me back to Ivo, my husband, who is no longer here.
When I accompany visitors as a Greeter, I like telling these fragments of memory. The faded photographs come back to life in their curious eyes, and San Lorenzo is coloured with new emotions.
I love cooking, tending the vegetable garden, sewing, passions in my family, and I find peace in a small mountain house towards Prada, where I patiently restore old objects.
I have travelled and walked a lot, but my happiness remains here, among the mountains of home. Like Dorothy, I know that there’s no place like my home.