And I looked down at you all from above…

By Sara Minervini

In the aftermath of the mother's death, a family finds itself dealing with its own and collective mourning, exposing weaknesses and conflicts, secrets, and feelings of guilt. With a perfect unity of time, place, and action, the narrator is the mother who can do nothing but "look at them all from above". A chorus of a single voice, tragic and cynical at the same time.

It is a short story about life, death, family relationships but also everyday banality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Libriquattropuntozero
• Release date: Oct 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223158486

Book preview

And I looked down on you all from above...

by

Sara Minervini

Translated by

Blessing Elosionu

shutterstock_2345221103 (1)

the eye that looks down

Images: Shutter stock /

Layout and editing of the text: www.libriquattropuntozero.com

To my mother and the girl I was

*

Who knows why Anna's first thought, as soon as they all returned from the burial ceremony, was of the plants. She remembered that she had to water the Spina Christi that was on the terrace and immediately set about looking for the watering can to fill it. The others, however, had scattered around the house, drifting like so many islands in the middle of the ocean. So Chiara immediately went to lock herself in her room. And Jacopo, who was still limping after the accident, had dropped into one of the armchairs in the living room, sinking simultaneously into the soft leather of the sofa and into his thoughts; both had not said a single word since the previous evening. Yet, more than sad they seemed serious to me, as if they had aged suddenly, as if the time of their lives had shortened the years to fit them all in the space of one night and in doing so had thrown them forward, towards a deceptive maturity. . Guido instead had gone into the kitchen to make a coffee. As usual, his movements were uncoordinated and distracted, he had put the coffee in the filter without first filling the jug with water and, when he noticed it, he cursed softly before repeating the operation all over again, and this time without making any mistakes, luckily. Then he remained still staring at the coffee pot on the fire for the entire time it took for it to belch out the liquid mixture, and even when the machine started to snort and mutter he remained fixed and serious watching, although I don't think he was able to seeing nothing before him other than the unmistakable form of his own thoughts. What was he thinking? Was he saddened by my sudden death or did he feel relieved now that he was finally free to be with Elvira without the trauma of a divorce that would have irreversibly dismembered our family? When he finally decided to pour the coffee into the cup and brought it to his lips, what aroma did his mouth taste the watered down one of his terrible coffee or the unexpected one of his freedom? Because now that Guido was a widower, no one, not even our children, could have blamed him if - after allowing a reasonable amount of time to pass at least to keep up appearances - he had thought about remarrying. After all, he was still young and soon the boys would leave home to pursue their elusive destinies and it would be easier for them too