Not long ago we received a bottle of good wine as a gift. The label caught our attention, and the story of those who helped bottle it captivated us even more.
The story of the foundation La Comune in Milan began with apartments designed for people with disabilities—created to make independent living possible. Several families who already knew each other approached us with the same wish: they wanted their children to have their own home in a protected setting, with a satisfying quality of life and genuine relationships, with the freedom to make their own choices—something that wouldn't have been possible in a traditional group home. Nine people, ranging from thirty to forty years old, now live in three apartments at subsidized rent. We provide educational support toward self-determination, but we don't manage the household itself—that remains in the hands of the residents, with support where needed. The residents work, they contribute what they can, and thanks to funding from the Law 112 program for independent living, we're able to cover costs.
The wine-bottling project came early in our work, and we remain deeply attached to it. Some agricultural companies beyond the Po River in Pavia offered us the chance to bottle their wine. We wanted our young residents to find genuine work. Then COVID arrived and changed everything. In that moment, this project became a concrete, tangible way to help our young people understand responsibility. Until then they'd been doing secondary activities, small tasks without real weight. Now they faced wine, bottles, labels, corks—every step mattered, and each person did their part from start to finish. The reward was real: a finished product in hand, beautiful and pleasing to others. That made the hard work meaningful.
At first, each bottle earned the young people a euro. As production grew, the bottles became part of a fundraising campaign for the apartments, supporting our independent-living projects. We now bottle five hundred bottles in October and five hundred more in April. Over time, we also opened a gardening business, which led to two plant and flower shops, and then to a plant nursery on leased land. Young people work on internships and others hold full positions; three of them are residents of the apartments. In eleven years—for some, the seventh—we haven't designed time-limited projects or experiments. For each resident, we may imagine evolution, new reflection, or changed needs—a smaller apartment, perhaps—but no one moves backward.
That's why our relationship with families is essential. Sometimes, even when parents want their children to grow, they struggle to let it happen. A child's steps toward independence can trigger unconscious resistance—parents can't always accept their son's or daughter's decisions, like choices about how to spend time. "My son has Saturday free—what should I have him do?" But that's the point. He doesn't need to be "kept busy." He works during the week; on Saturday he rests, like anyone else. These are ordinary dynamics, which is why we've now launched our third year of psychological support for families, helping us work on parallel tracks and avoid mixed messages. Wine bottling, opened to the families themselves, has become a fixed appointment twice a year—once for red, once for white. It's a chance to be together in a different way, each person bringing their own skills and experience. And to celebrate the milestones we've reached together.
