The Days I'll Never Forget | Teen Ink

The Days I'll Never Forget

June 7, 2019
By csalotto BRONZE, New City, New York
csalotto BRONZE, New City, New York
2 articles 0 photos 1 comment

April 17, 1946. Six months in America.

The days I’ll never forget. Mine are countless. Some uplifting. Some heart-wrenching. Always in my mind forever.

I’ll always remember the day we boarded the ship. It would be a four-week, transatlantic journey. We were leaving our lives and the land we called home.

I am from Bari, a small city in Southern Italy. It was peaceful for a long time. Until May 22, 1939, the day after my eighth birthday. The weeks before had been frightening.  My mother would wake up at least twice a night to check the lock on the doors and windows. When I asked why, she simply said,

“Francesca, tesoro, don’t worry. One day, this will all make sense. That day just isn’t today.”

Mother said my little sister Annamaria and I were too young to understand. But still, I wondered.

Soon, they came for my father. I watched from the window as the officer stood in our doorway, ordering the only man in my life to enlist in the Royal Italian Army, or Regio Esercito. The man said father would be gone for a long time. When he said he didn’t want to go, the officer, aided by two others, forced their way into our home and grabbed my father by his arms. As he was dragged out the door, he said these words to me.

“I’ll be back, Francesca, I promise. Tell Annamaria, too. Ti amo.”

That’s the last time I saw my father. A few weeks after the war ended in September, 1945, the news spread that families of Italian soldiers were being purged for their roles in supporting Mussolini. The next day, my mother packed our suitcases and we walked to the dock. Annamaria was holding my hand tight the whole walk, trailing a few steps behind me. I could tell she was scared, but still we said nothing. After my father was declared MIA, Annamaria and I learned not to ask many questions. I had never been on a boat that big before, and it seemed a bit crowded. Everyone seemed to be running from their lives, and from their fear.

•••

I’ll always remember my first day of public school in America. My Bay Ridge apartment was small, but it’s what we could do until my mom found a job. I walked up to PS 170 and I couldn’t help but frown. Were people gonna like me? I knew English but it wasn’t perfect, because I spoke exclusively in Italian at home. I entered the brown double doors and headed towards the room that said office on the door. The principal, who’s name I still can’t pronounce, handed me my schedule and wished me good luck.

“Remember Francesca, if you ever need help, my door is always open.”

Walking through the doors of science classroom 315, I already felt different. Everyone averted their eyes from me. One girl even scowled at my handmade, non-American clothes. The teacher called me up to the front of the room.

“Everyone, this is your new classmate, Francesca Moretti. She came all the way from

Italy! I expect you all to make her feel comfortable in her new environment. Francesca,

we are doing partner work today, and I’m going to partner you with Robert. He’s a very good worker.”


Walking over to my lab table, Robert looked me up and down. When I reached it, I didn’t want to say anything, scared I would mess up my English.

“So you’re from Italy, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Hah! What a freak! Can you even speak English? I bet the only thing you’re good at is

cooking pasta.”

I said nothing. Robert just scoffed and went back to his work, keeping himself at least an arms length away from me, as if I had some infectious disease. That was the only time someone talked to me, or even referred to me. No hellos, no ciaos. I was alone. I ate my lunch in silence, feeling Robert and everyone’s eyes on me.

Home was no different. Annamaria had already made tons of friends in her fifth grade class and was spending time with them. My mom didn’t arrive home until I was almost asleep. I heard her footsteps, going to check the locks on the doors and windows, just by nature. Then she entered my room. I faintly heard her say,

“Tesoro, mi dispiace.”

Tears ran down my cheek.

The next few weeks were unbearable. I lived in a vicious cycle of waking up, going to school, dealing with Roberts taunt’s, going home, crying myself to sleep. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I even arrived at school one day to find a lump of soggy spaghetti sitting on my chair, the sauce spelling out “FREAK.” I had no support, and not a word about Italy or school from my mother. Only small conversations about unimportant things.

“Com'è stata la tua giornata?”

“Andava bene.”

She would usually say nothing in response, just continuing to make her lunch for the next day. Oblivious. Annamaria was still too young to see my pain. Almost every day, I would think about going back to Bari, feeling again like a truly belonged. Like I wasn’t an outsider. This was until April 4th. Until I met Sandra. I’ll always remember her.

It was a normal day, Robert’s usual taunting, my usual silence, when I heard a voice from my left.

“Robert, can you just leave the poor girl alone? All she’s trying to do is get by in a new

home and you are not helping her.”

We turned our heads to see a dark haired girl glaring directly at Robert. He put his head down, ashamed. I’ll always remember those words. After class, I walked up to her.

“Thank you. It’s Sandra, right?”

She smiled. Sandra became the only person who made going to school enjoyable. School talks turned homework sessions, homework sessions turned into lunches. I finally had a friend.

The same day as Sandra’s brave words, I decided to speak up to my mother. When she arrived home, I was still awake, sitting with a cup of tea in our tiny kitchen.

“Francesca, Cosa c'è che non va?”

“Tutto, mama. For the last two months, you haven’t once asked me how I’m doing. How

did you not notice! The tears on my pillow, the pleas to go back to Bari, my overall

gloom. Mom! What happened? Perchė? Please, tell me the truth!”

She sighed.

“Tesoro, I don’t know what to tell you. After your father, everything happened so fast. We were in danger, back home, and I’m still so broken. I know I have been wrong in the ways I’ve treated you and Annamaria these past months, but I know I have done something right. You have made the best out of a horrible situation. I’m proud everyday to say you are my daughter and to see how much you’ve grown. Ti amo così tanto e sono così orgoglioso della tua forza.”

Then we just hugged. I’ve never hugged anyone tighter. It seemed that today, everything came full circle.

I’ll always remember this day. The one where I had actual friends and a happy family. The one where this new land finally started to feel like home.


Italian Translations (in order) -

Tesoro - darling

Mi dispiace - I’m sorry

Com'è stata la tua giornata? - How was your day?

Andava bene - It was fine

Cosa c'è che non va? - What’s wrong?

Tutto - Everything

Perchė - Why

Ti amo così tanto e sono così orgoglioso della tua forza - I love you so much and I'm so proud of your strength.


The author's comments:

My historical fiction short story is about a girl's new life in America after fleeing from the dangerous conditions of Italy in the 1940s. Hope you enjoy!


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