My Sardinian mum – La mia mamma Sarda

I have been lucky enough to have been included in another family and gained another mum

A Sardinian mum at that. At 88, she’s still alert, with a sharp wit, quick in her head and with a sharp tongue when she wants to. She’s small, but with a posture that can be envied by people half her age, commanding respect.

She likes to tell people she meets how old she. With a mixture of both exasperation and pride. She shows them that she still has all her own teeth. She does a Wallace and Grommit grin (a very big, stiff smile) to show her teeth and says ‘tutti i miei denti!’ (‘I have all my own teeth’). 

Pucci the silly dog

When she goes out she always looks immaculate and with a handbag hanging from her elbow, a nice coat and a brooch. And Pucci, the silly and unruly dog, in a leash in the other hand. Pucci goes where she goes, and sometimes that leads to trouble. Like the time Pucci got in a fight with another dog and pulled Mamma Sarda flat on her face. Leaving her black and blue for a week.

Saucy Easter lunch entertainment

I will never forget the first lunch I had with her. It was the traditional Easter Day lunch at a lovely restaurant in a small seaside town. After some white wine and some courses of food she started telling us about when she was newly married.

How her mother-in-law had given gave her Grappa in the coffee every morning so she should have the strength to perform marital activities. And about a time she went swimming in the sea with no knickers on. Under a swimming costume that, back in the time when she was young, looked like a dress. But when she went in the water, the costume floated up, leaving her exposed. Fortunately, she did not listen to Sardinian man’s hints that this was maybe not suitable to share over Easter lunch. She only said ‘Ma!’ (but!) and continued. I was well entertained and loved this free-spoken little woman (who basically shattered all my beliefs of how an elderly Sardinian catholic would be like). Link to post about common misbeliefs about Sardinia.

She was singing to herself in the car on the way back home. Filled up with wine, good food and fond memories.

Sardinian mum is NOT amused

The year after, we were back at the same restaurant for another Easter lunch. After the meal Sardinian man took the old, windy road up the mountain hill, steep and narrow. Sardinian mum did not like this, telling her son in strict tones she was less than amused. I was laughing until my belly ached in the back seat. This tiny little woman sitting straight-backed in her seat with her handbag propped nicely on her lap, telling off a 190cm tall guy. 

When we finally stopped and went out of the car she did agree that the view from up there was ‘bellissimo’. But she did take the opportunity to tell some people hiking up there that indeed she did not like that road. 

Again driving back home she fell mostly silent, but contentedly humming a little to herself.

Life long love story

Her big, old photo album usually comes out when I’m there and she points to the photos and tells me (again) who these people are. I pretend I do not know who they all are. She looses herself in old photographs – getting a dreamy look on her face and you can see she’s far away. Lost in memories of people and places from long ago.

In prominent places in her large flat there are photos of her late husband. She looks at them often and every time comments on how beautiful he was. 

Also in her wallet she carries a couple of photos of him. If we go somewhere with her she often takes these photos out and looks at them with love in her eyes and again tells us how beautiful her husband was. Sometimes even stroking the photo with a finger. Again lost in memories of what must have been (and still is) a beautiful, life long, love story. 

Even so, there has been great pain in her life, the death of a child who suffered with an illness. A husband going though all the painful stages of dementia before he passed away, living at home under her care all the time. This has left some tough marks, but it shows the fight and strength that is in her.

She does not leave her little town often, a walk to the town square or cemetery is as far as she goes. But when she’s taken on a car ride she looks here and there and comments on the changes done as the landscape passes by. 

Embroidered swimsuits and the dream of the beach

On a couple of occasions when we’ve talked about the beach she’s shown me her two swimsuits. She takes them out and comments on how beautiful they are. One with embroideries and one with a floral pattern. She strokes the fabric and admires the design. The abstracted look on her face tells me she would love to go to the beach. But every time we have tried to suggest a trip to the beach she exclaims “but my legs are ugly!”….Honestly, when you are 88 you should not have to care what your legs look like. 

Sardinian mum also looks immaculate on days when she’s only inside, with nice clothes and jewellery.

A precious gift

Even on days when she does not leave her flat or does not expect visitors. I admire that.

The jewellery is often traditional Sardinian jewellery. Earrings and rings and sometimes a brooch. I usually admire and comment on it. Particularly a traditional ring she has with a pattern originating from Sant’Antioco (an island on the South West coast of Sardinia). They call it a Sant’Antioco wedding ring. One day she just hands me the ring and says ‘here, take it’, totally surprising me, but making me feel very honoured.

I wear her ring with love and think of this little woman and her life of love, joy and pain. Feeling honoured to be embraced so totally in a life far away from my Nordic origin. 

Sempre una perla – always a pearl

Now in a care home she can still show her bossy side and her determination to do what she wants. And at 88 you should indeed be allowed to at least eat what you want. When we visit her in the late afternoon we take her down to the on site café. Here she always has a big, full fat latte macchiato with two sugars and a sweet, sticky pastry. And when we bring her back up to her room it’s usually around dinner time at the home. The nurses want to serve her dinner, but she refuses to eat, and just turns around in her chair, with her back straight and fixes them with a stern look and exclaims ‘I do not want to eat, my stomach is old!!!’. Makes me laugh every time

When I’m 88 I hope I’ll be like her, proudly showing people I have all my own teeth. With my hair nicely done, with jewellery and with a sharp mind and fight in me  – and a love for reading books. 

‘Sempre una perla’ (always a pearl) she says when she talks about jewellery – I think that goes for her too, she’ll always be a pearl.

Lots of love,

Bee