Open the window and breathe, breathe that same scent forever!
It’s amazing how time passes quickly, but even more incredible are the memories that resurface. Yes, because nobody likes growing up!
On the other hand, it’s nice to be aware of the years that pass and to know that there will be stories to tell.
Stories about which the people who listen can only be spectators and you, you know that nobody can ever be the star.
All that remains is to close your eyes and listen.
I remember when I was little and couldn’t wait to go out and meet my friends. Those friends who would have been companions in adventures, companions of a life that flowed quickly and a life that without them would never have left their mark.
Yes, it is so because today it is enough to look at one of them to bring back a memory … “Do you remember when …?”.
I remember the days spent playing hide and seek, kicking the ball, running with the bikes, annoying the elderly of the town, knocking on their doors and, running away, making fun of them jokingly. Those wells of stories and wisdom.
Those same elders who shortly afterwards would have missed you, realizing that you had taken on your shoulders the role of being the main narrator of their lives. They would live again in the future through your stories and histories!
I remember running to rush home when a screeching scream from my mother echoed through the streets of the town. In a hurry, you rushed home and climbing the stairs you could smell those aromas, summer perfumes, winter aromas, spring perfumes, familiar smells, aromas of affection …
I chose to tell of these emotions with a poem …
I miss Torre, Torre Cajetani, go down the street and find many villagers.
Starting as a young man and until now, how can we forget Oliva “ciciarona”: you knocked on the window and you ran a lot. But sooner or later you would get a bucket of water or a piece of wood at your side, behind a wall or in a tree, you would shout “Giovannà” and she would come out with her broom.
Every day we went to play football in the square in ‘cerano ‘nsomma do te và!’ In the square it was a contest between Piera, Tarquinio and Uncle Angelo … if you only knew how many balls we have punctured.
Then Uncle Rolly came and we were always running away.
Time passed much faster, between a friends playroom and a bicycle ride.
In winter, however, almost nothing was done, but in summer not many people would arrive from Rome or Milan!
“Guys what are we doing tonight?” – “I would have an idea: pizza, coke and chips! Let’s go from Enzo to the chalet that leads to the sheds! “
Between the heat and the cicadas while walking in peace, you stopped to get an ice cream with Zona screaming.
And how can we forget that “wall” … every day at the same time we all met at Uncle Checco. Down in cerano every evening you went to kick ball, with Paolo Sante or Valerio who with his guitar would make you sing!
Between musicals, children’s party and band always to test with Ignazio’s choreography!
I remember that period, the whole town feasting on the run, all united together each district adorned so that the palio was about to begin!
The memories are so many, but with a few words I hope I have wrenched a smile from everyone.
I miss you Torre, I miss you so much, and who knows if one day everything will return!
Mi manca Torre , Torre Cajetani,
scende pe strada e trovà tanti paesani.
Partendo da giovane e arrivando fino ad ora,
come dimenticare Oliva “ciciarona”,
bussavi alla finestra e correvi tanto,
ma prima o poi t’arrivava un secchio d’acqua o na legnata al fianco,
dietro a un muretto o su un albero sopra sopra,
urlavi “Giovannà” e lei usciva con la scopa.
A pallone ogni giorno andavamo a giocà,
in piazzetta a cerano ‘nsomma do te và!
in piazzetta era un teatro,
tra Piera, Tarquinio e zì Angelo,
non se sà quanti palloni c’hanno bucato,
A Cerano che te lo dico a fa
arrivava zio Rolly e stavi sempre a scappà.
Il tempo passava molto più in fretta,
tra ludoteca amici e na corsa in bicicletta.
L’inverno comunque non se faceva quasi niente,
ma l’estate da Roma a Milano n’arrivava poca de gente!
Regà che facciamo stasera?
n’idea ce l’avrei: pizza coca-cola e patatine,
andiamo da Enzo allo Chalet che ci mette alle capannine!
Tra caldo e cicale mentre camminavi in tranquillità,
te fermavi a prende un gelato con zona che stava a urlà.
E come dimenticà quel “muretto”,
ogni giorno alla stessa ora ci incontravamo tutti da zi checco.
Giù a cerano ogni sera t’andavi a buttà,
con Paolo Sante o Valerio che con la chitarra te facevano cantà!
Tra musical, festa dei bambini e banda sempre a fa na prova,
con le coreografie di Ignazio non ce stava storia!
Me ricordo quel periodo tutto il paese in festa a scalpità,
tutti insieme uniti abbellivano le contrade che il palio stava pe comincià!
I ricordi sono davvero tanti,
ma con poche parole spero d’avè strappato un sorriso a tutti quanti!
Mi manchi Torre, mi manchi tanto,
e chissà se un giorno ritornerà tutto quanto!
Poem by Francesco Sabellico