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/> My grandma began to speak a strange language, most likely Italian.
“buon giorno ,Margret” my grandma said.
“buon giorno a voi troppo ,Edna” the woman said. She had blond hair that was pinned up , she had blue eyes, and wore a white dress with red flowers, and peal earings. The woman glanced at me for a minuet and looked back at my grandma,
“E chi è la ragazza giovane?” she asked. My grandmother grabed my shoulder and said
“Questa è la mia figlia grand. Lei sarà alloggiato con me per il momento.” She then smiled and looked down at me. I had know idea what they were saying. The woman smiled
“Ahh... bene, allora vi do il benvenuto.” She told me. I only looked at her with a confused blank look.
“si prega di perdonare lei. Lei non parla italiano” grandma told her. We then left and walked up the stairs.
“that was Margret, she is our doorwoman.” We walked up the stairs to the third floor. As we walk in I was amazed at how simple the apartment was. Back in Poland all our furniture were antiques , but in Florence every thing was simple , there was no wooden carved furniture , no silk tapestries, or lace table cloths, not even a flowers in the vases. I walked in to the living room and saw that the room had wooden floor board , tan walls ,the floral sofa, a small round wooden table with four whicker chairs, a radio, an old white fernis, and one small window with matching curtains. The only source of light was a tall lamp in the corner. The kitchen was in the same room but with white tiles.
“Your room is this way.” My grand mother lead me down the hall in to a large room. The room had a twin size bed, wooden floors, a large carved antique wardrobe, and white walls. The room had a balcony with a view of the city. I turned around to see a small light blue desk with flowers painted on it. I then saw a large wall painting of an Oak tree ,near a river, with a horse standing in a field of wild flower, with the sun in the corner.
“This was your mothers room.” Grandma was leaning in the doorway.
“Did you paint that?” I pointed to the painting.
“Oh no, Not me! Mary painted that,” She laughed.
“I can barely hold a paint brush correctly, but Mary, she could paint all day. Well any way, you should unpack.” She then slowly walked out of the room.
I unpacked my clothing and hung it in my new wardrobe. I placed my five pairs of shoes in the large drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe. I took out my navy blue sneakers with white laces, slippers, laced up black ankle boots, tan penny loafer, and red flats with a small bow. I then unpacked my other suitcase that was field with my favorite books, magazines, my hair brush, hair ribbons and head bands, a music box field with bracelets and necklaces, a photo album, the photo of my mother and I, my first running medal , and my favorite bear.
I placed the music box on my side table . I lade down on the bed and opened the box. I watched the small girl dance as the melody played. I remember receiving the box when I was five. My father had given it to me when he returned home from Switzerland. The box was in the of a golden grand piano with a white, red, green flower painted on the top. The keys of the piano was a compartment for rings. The interior was lined with smooth satin. The ballerina was a young girl with brown hair wearing a green ,red , and gold costume while she is performing a pirouette.
“Ally, did you unpack your stuff yet?” grandma called from the kitchen. I stood up and poked my head out into the hallway
“Yes ma’am I’m all done,” I called..” She called back. I walked down the hallway into the bathroom. As I washed my hands I noticed in the corner of the there was as a small item that resembled a sink, but had no faucet and had two drains. Out of my curiosity I reached down and turned the handle a, and suddenly out of one of the drains shot out water. The squirted my face and I struggled to block the water as I fought to turn the water off. After quiet some time off spitting out water and blindly search the surface of the short for the handle, I finale managed to turn the high pressured water off. I glanced down at my clothes and saw that I was soaked to the bone. I got up and rushed out of the bathroom to see my grandmother sitting in the living room reading a book. She turned to look at me started to laugh.
“Dear, what happened to you?” she asked.
“I was spat on by a foot sink!” I told her. She stared laughing once again and after she had calmed down, she looked up at me in amusement.
“Allison, that foot sink is called a bidet. It is used to wash your hind side. Don’t you have those in Warsaw?” She asked.
“No, we don’t!” I said.
“Well go change and hang your damp clothes on clothes line, and come eat.” I sighed and went into the bathroom and grabbed at towel and headed back to my room. After I changed , dried my hair, cleaned up the water on the floor, and hung up everything wet I was finely able to eat supper. I looked done at the food on my plate it was one type of pasta that I had never seen before, the pasta resembled a green ring but was fat in the middle and smelled like garlic mushrooms.
"what is this?" I pointed down at my plate with curiosity, not meaning to be rude. My Grandmother laughed,
"It's spinach tortellini stuffed with mushroom with garlic sauce on top." I inhaled the aroma of he food and eminently started to drool. I sat down quickly and started to eat. As I scarfed down my food I looked up at my grandmother with a piece of tortellini hanging out of my mouth. She had her arms crossed


---utill next update: sammy & emma.
Imprint

Publication Date: 06-21-2010

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
to my sister

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