Coming Home

Every Wednesday at 5:30 p.m., I arrive home from work, climb the Rampa Massaciuccoli stairs, and see the young people smoking or talking—mostly the girls discussing football. The real surprise is that my nephew Gabriele has his religion lesson online. The teacher asks questions about the life of Jesus, the Last Supper of the apostles, the subject of Saint Thomas—unless I see it, I don't believe in it. The young people take turns raising their hands to answer the catechist's question for about half an hour, then they say goodbye with a prayer. When the teacher asks him for an answer, he says he has to finish his homework. My mother prepares him a snack, and last time he was happy to eat the whipped cream with apricot jam. My brother Ernesto lives in a group home on via Morgagni. It's been so long since they let him go out because of Covid. I'm happy with my job packing reactive medical products—my coworkers are nice and always offer me something. My boss respects me and gives me instructions about cleaning the courtyard too.