Images and text by Carter.
When I moved across the country almost seven years ago, my younger sister travelled with me. And when I arrived on the west coast after a long week of driving, it was late and dark. I didn’t know my roommate, my neighborhood, or why one of the only possessions I stuffed into the back of my little car was a broken green lamp with a crumpled shade.
Morning shed some light on my unfamiliar street, and on my unfamiliar house, and my sister said simply, “Looks like Strega Nona’s.” This book was woven into our history. With one quiet observation, all of the unsettled grumbles that echo around a new place hushed, and it became a little more like home. This is why stories matter.
Strega Nona, by Tomie dePaola, is timeless. It’s the story of a grandma with a magic touch and hungry Big Anthony, who doesn’t. This is a book with an overeager heart and an overflowing pasta pot. I love my cautionary tales with a side of spaghetti, don’t you? And ever astute, Strega Nona rests comfortably once she takes care of that pasta problem — in her house, the one etched in my heart.
Do you have a book like this, one that stirs shared souls? Something wonderfully haunting and deeply comforting?