I woke up this morning to go to work as usual: Baba's sleep is so silent for a moment I thought of him.
a moment later I remembered: it arrived yesterday and is sleeping next to me.
rigurgitino of pure happiness!
but it felt to breathe, move, and I dared not stretch a foot, a hand, turn around to look.
I was afraid that my imagination and my wish had finally taken over in my head and that if the fairies were having a great time at the big drunk in my ears.
scared to death! a gust of cold sweat and fever.
but it was there, it's still there, and there will be tonight when I get back from work.
then I discovered that he stood up in the middle of the night and as he went into the kitchen to smoke a cigarette, with that perfect aplomb very Inglese not lose even under the impact of atomic weapons, he asked "but who I am .. domendo ..?".
there is a stress syndrome from reunification (deconstruction reconstruction) family?
a syndrome that afflicts people who spent a year at a distance (or two, three, four, eight ..) seeing maybe once a year or even one.
a syndrome that explains why, from the day of his departure, spesso, troppo spesso, ho avuto la fisica sensazione di scosse di terremoto che erano solo nei miei nervi a fior di pelle, che mi facevano alzare dal letto per controllare che il cielo non mi stesse cadendo sulla testa o appoggiare alla cucina, dove stavo preparando pasta cacio e pepe alla romana, con la sensazione che le ginocchia cedessero?
ma nulla si muoveva a parte il mio spirito compresso.
perchè per un anno il mio desiderio sessuale si è congelato in un rigidissimo non-pensiero-non-desiderio, nella fredda, terrorizzata, distanza perfino dall'abbraccio di un amico, dalle coccole di un'amica?
perchè a volte è stato così facile riconfortarmi con la mia immagine abituale da single, facile come wearing an old flannel pajamas chess men cutting, wrap in pink shawl and put me in front of the telly to purr myself, as easy as thinking about my future, my everything, easy to forget how to have another family now and no longer, nor only a daughter, nor only a sister, or just a friend.
a syndrome that explains why I've been holding so far, and then I find myself for a moment (fortunately only a moment) into a black hole of terror to the idea that the cocoon of blankets next to me is that only the down rose up to my fights night?
syndrome exists, and it touched me because even in mild reading difficulties were my compared to other people's stories are much more complex and dramatic.
exists and the two lightly today we face and we laugh together, to be drunk together, erasing all of a sudden a year of effort.
but some do not have all this good fortune: the syndrome does exist in different forms and affects, and sometimes destroyed.
exists, but it is not spoken, not in detail, not enough.
I would like to speak it, I would be talking about the shared, before, during and after you learn together, not to regard it as inevitable part and all things considered unimportant in the process of migration, but as something which the State, the society can and must deal with what has to deal with health, housing, safety, language, the process of coexistence and change - that if I would speak of it as a right, the right to suffer for his family split in half like a grapefruit.
there is a right to protection of the family unit, as set out in the Immigration Act (TU art. 28, 29, 30 and 31 paragraph 3, Art. 19, paragraph 2 °; Presidential Decree 394/1999 art. 6, 28 ) .
there are too many decisions that disregard contrary, there are too many holes in the support services, there is a huge lack of cultural empathy and solidarity with the men, women and children who live far away and can not join a weekend and so a no.
there are families that these are real and even if they do not live in the same place, nor in the same city, nor in the same country and sometimes even the same continent.
there are families for which the State claims the right to determine who should not be, not on its territory, as if "the state" were monstrous entity with its own life independent of its ghostly citizens.
are mourning that nobody sees, because nobody sees, because they lived at a distance.
distance exists, and it hurts, worn out, digs, furrows, and knots affect nerves, tendons, pulled muscles and weaves, takes your breath away and the will to live.
talk about it, perhaps, will make it a bit 'less icy and sharp, Who knows?
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