Aunt Sylvia shifts in her seat. Johnny-panni squirms on his mother’s lap. It is too hot to sit on Mama’s lap and she lets me slide to the dirt where I sit and dig holes that I make believe are craters made by bombs. I make believe I am dropping bombs on the bad men who try to make Nonno a slave. I dig more craters and am glad that Aunt Sylvia doesn’t make me listen the way Aunt Tina would if she were here telling the story.
Mama goes in, returns with a pitcher of Kool-Aid and ice. Before she pours the orange liquid into glasses, she helps him… me make a circle in the condensation. We add dots for eyes and a big smiling mouth but drops run down making the eyes tear and the smile look angry. Aunt Tina, I think, would never drink Kool-Aid. I’m glad that Aunt Sylvia doesn’t hesitate. I get ba
