Yes to life
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Yes to life - Simonetta Rizzotto
gratitude.
The flight to London Gatwick took off few minutes ago, at 4.30pm, my first time on the plane: I'm scared, but it is really cool. London I am coming. Sitting next to me an elderly lady, she looks English, she is relaxed. I can tell that she must have flown before. She smiles at me. The journey that will change my life forever has just started.
I lived my first eighteen years in a small village of two thousand souls in the lower Belluno area, studying as secretary on a three years school course. My parents did not have much money, but they wanted to give me a few more opportunities in life. With various sacrifices, they had decided to offer me the chance to have at least a diploma that would allow me to find a better job. I always liked to study, with a particular attitude for foreign languages, especially english.
After graduating, I immediately started to look for a job as secretary. In my area there were chandelier factories, optical factories and nearby also furniture makers. However, it seemed that my diploma was not enough because there was a request of experience as well as the knowledge of a language and unfortunately I missed both.
I've always been willful and this allowed me to never give up on all the things that I believed in. Looking for a job involved the need to have a means of transport, buses and trains ran at no convenient hours. The purchase of a car or a scooter would have been the only solution, but I could not afford them.
One day my dad told me he had heard from one of his friend that a company of chandeliers in the nearby village was looking for a worker.
I was not thrilled, but since I had knocked several doors without results and knowing that I was a burden for the family economy, I decided to go for an interview.
I was hoping so much they could hire me as a secretary assistant but it didn’t happen.
They hired me as a worker, mounting chandeliers and assembling the parts with the connections of the electric wires.
Sometimes I think and I pray that nobody ever burned their hands while hanging the chandelier made by me.
In case you are reading me, I do apologize.
I was not very good, mainly because we had to do everything quickly.
Every evening, before going home, we had to fill into a book the number of pieces we had completed.
I remember it was a stress and my colleagues, who worked there for a long time, made me feel unable for the number of my pieces, always inferior to theirs.
I felt bad, although I did not like the job.
In the spring of 1984 my aunty, dad's sister, told me about an english girl who was working as an au pair for her neighbors for three months.
I decided to meet her to understand how this experience worked. Sarah, this was her name, was the typical english girl: light skin, blonde, not so tall, she spoke very little Italian.
The family she worked for, spoke in english and they translated for me.
So I managed to get the au pair agency contacts in London.
Sarah promised to write on my behalf to look for a family that could welcome me in England to have the same experience.
She studied at the University of Nottingham.
We said goodbye with the hope to hear from her soon with some good news for me.
I was already excited at the idea.
So summer came and my parents left for Rome, my mother’s birthplace, I stayed at home because I did not want to have a holiday with them.
At that time, I received a letter from Sarah in which she informed me that she registered with the Agency and that I would be called soon, she suggested me to leave immediately for Nottingham where I could stay with her until a family would hire me.
I did not think it twice and I went to buy a one-way ticket to London, I would have then continued the trip to Nottingham by coach.
I had to tell my parents.
I left for Rome and I spent the journey on the train concentrating on how I would rehearse my decision to tell my family that I was going to England. I asked myself if it would have been much wiser to say it immediately to both, or if it was better to inform my mum first and then my dad or if it was even better to wait for my uncles and aunties to be there too. I arrived late in the evening, they were having dinner, I said hello and hugged everyone, then with a firm and confident voice I said: I'am leaving for London, are you happy for me?
Mum began to cry, dad tried to persuade me in all ways, not to mention my relatives, who continued to tell me that I was crazy.
A table of people all joined in trying to make me change my mind.
I had already made my mind up and nothing and nobody could convince me to the contrary, I had recently come of age and they could not have stopped me.
The departure was set for the following week, so we returned home.
My parents sad and angry and I full of joy and eager to make this experience abroad.
The day arrived.
I was so excited, scared and sad at the same time.
I was leaving to a faraway country, where I did not know anybody except Sarah.
I felt sorry to leave my family, especially my mum who was not very well, an illness that she had since I was a child.
Of course if I did not leave, it would not have been my presence to make her heal.
With the time and the experience I then learned that each of us are responsible for our lives and we cannot sacrifice our dreams and our desires for anybody, not even for our parents.
It may seems selfish, unfair and maybe unloving, but in the end it is the reality.
Each has its own path to explore, no matter what it takes and where, the important thing is to follow it.
I held back the tears until I got on the plane.
Mother was crying, she kept asking me if I was convinced and I repeated: yes mum, I'm sure.
The destination was Gatwick terminal 1, waiting at my arrival there was Sarah accompanied by her father. We would have spent the night at her family's home, in Crawley, before continue to Nottingham.
I could not close my eyes that night.
I could not realize where I was and it all seemed so surreal.
Sarah spoke to me in the little Italian she remembered and I tried to talk my school’s english but it was difficult and it seemed that everyone spoke so fast to understand and make a sense of it.
It was also my first english dinner. I remember it well: baked potatoes, unseasoned peas and hamburger.
Sarah’s mother, a very kind lady, was looking at me with curiosity.
She spoke to me but I could not understand anything. To end the dinner a nice cup of tea and straight to sleep.
We got up at dawn, Sarah's father took us to the coach station and we left. The journey lasted several hours, it was pleasant because I spent most of the time to admire the english landscape, so green and at the same time, so gray.
Once we arrived in Nottingham we went to the apartment where Sarah was staying, together with five other university scholarship: three girls and two boys.
They welcomed me