Remembrances of Christmases in Rome
After days of grey skies and intermittent rain, the predawn sky is once again filled with stars as Kit and I set off on our morning walk. The thermometer on the porch is fixed on twenty-two degrees. Frozen like the grass that crunches under our feet It is so dark and the air so cold that my eyes begin to water as I round the first turn on our meadow path. I want to look up at the sky and greet the stars, but keep my eyes fixed on the ground that I can barely see, trusting my trekking poles to guide me ahead.
Gradually, my eyes adjust to the darkness. Barn lights on neighboring farms mark their location one road to the east. The herd of cattle we passed yesterday as they munched hay distributed by their owner must be dozing still, lost in dreams of green summer pasture grass. Birds that shelter in dense cedar boughs have yet to venture out in search of grain at the feeders. The crunch of our footsteps is heard only by a lone rabbit eating the bright orange pulp that is all that remains of our Halloween pumpkins.
Halfway through our walk, we stop and take in the heavens. “How did travelers in ancient time follow stars.?” Kit wondered aloud. How indeed? The constellations were a map that they carried in their heads,” I surmised. As travelers journeyed great distances, they used the stars as celestial landmarks and proceeded in their direction. At that moment, a star fell from the sky. Then another. As we witnessed the meteor shower underway overhead, lines from a song came to mind.
“Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,
Save it for a rainy day.
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,
Never let it fade away.”
With thoughts of stars tucked in my pocket, I then scanned the southwestern sky for Saturn and Jupiter. The two planets have been moving toward a grand conjuncture on December 21. The much-anticipated event will best be visible after 6 p.m. that night. For now, I return my eyes to the pathway and find my way back to the house in the dark.
Already in the kitchen, Kit prepares a cup of Nespresso Italian roast coffee with steamed milk and brings me a cup as I position myself on the couch across from our Buck Stove. I tell him that I’ve just had an email from Suzanne and Don—dear friends who live part of the year in a small French village east of the Pyrenees and keep an apartment not far from the Pantheon in Rome. In pre-Covid years when travel during the holidays was possible, Suzanne and Don would now be experiencing Rome in its festive mood during the Christmas holidays. Instead, she emails that she is “Romesick” after self-isolating in France since early March. Travel is still not safe.
“Wistfullness, be still,” wrote Suzanne as she then began sharing memories of Roman Christmases past.
“I remember a long-ago Christmas on the brightly illuminated Corso, hordes of shoppers munching on grilled chestnuts sold by vendors. The aroma of these ubiquitous winter treats perfume the wintry city air with an irresistible charcoal scent.
“Every December, we meet friends at a beloved spot to eat buttered bread with anchovies along with crisp fried filets of tender salt cod. As good as the cod is the welcoming smile of the maker of these delights, Marcello, the Filettaro himself.
“But my longing for the ravioli alla noce, walnut sauce, made by Jole, wife of Nicola at the restaurant Il Buco, is ever-present in my Romesick heart. Just two steps from our apartment, they are always there to greet us, setting a table and bringing out late-night sustenance of cinghiale salami and a salad of ovoli mushrooms with a much-needed glass of vino. They are part of our extended Rome family, and I hope, above all that they manage to weather these stormy times that have seen all too many restaurants shut down.
“Even as I put together the weekly Sunday night pizza here in our tiny Pyrénées-Orientales (east Pyrenees) village to remind us of our sweet other home, I cannot temper the longing for the weekly evening walk my husband and I took through the lovely Piazza Sant’Ignazio, seen so often in films. There, we’d have our Sunday night Rome pizza and a platter of perfect little crisp fried artichoke slices at la Sagrestia.”
Suzanne then recalled gazing one December night at the Pantheon, her favorite ancient monument in all the world. At that moment, I am transported there and am standing in this ancient temple completed in 126 AD by emperor Hadrian. Arms raised above my head, I attempt to catch a snowflake as it whirls and drifts down through the round opening at the center of the Pantheon’s magnificent dome. Light from a full Christmas moon illuminates the heavens. The moment is as close to perfect as I can imagine.
On December 21, 2020 the Jupiter-Saturn conjunction will be the closest since 1623 and the closest observable since 1226. After months of isolation from friends and family, this celestial event will form a ‘Christmas Star’ on the winter solstice. May its brilliance mark a return from darkness to light and inspire hope in the coming year.