Remembering My Mom’s Ravioli
Today, I will share my memory of my mom’s process for making ravioli.
Ravioli Dreams of Nonna
Mostly, I remember that Nonna couldn’t speak–Italian or English. Her vocal chords were irreversibly damaged as a young child. Yet the spoken word wasn’t necessary for her to be understood and endeared.
Still Window Shopping
She strolled the congested streets of her cluttered memory.
Working Memory: Swing ropes, bad.
I was eleven when it happened. I do remember that. The last day I rode a tree swing. Trees lined the property up the hill near our house. A thick, braided rope swing was fastened to the highest limb of the highest tree. The swing rope was a popular activity then—especially in the age of…