His fingertip brushed the water drops and he immediately pulled it back: they were cold and wet, but what else did he expect? What’s colder and wetter than the sea in December, especially when you are on a ship full of people and the only corner to sleep is under the stars? He sighed and wiped his hand on the pants, regretting it at once: they were his good pants, his only pair, hemmed by Mum’s love before she put him on the ship. He remembered how she took them from Dad’s closet, staring for a moment at the pictures on the dresser, and then she called him to fix the length to his little child's legs. He left the day after but he hadn’t understood it at first. When they went out to the harbour, he thought they were just going to the beach, even if it was weird, in winter. But then Mum put a small bag into his smaller hands and he saw the ship, dark and tall, shadowing on the dock. It seemed so big, a giant with an iron belly, and a line of people waited there to be swallowed: they went up one after another, alone or with someone, hugging their loved ones or a suitcase to whom they hold on as if it was the most precious thing in the world. “Mum, who are they?” he asked, but Mum just kissed him on the forehead, indulging more than usual with lips pressed on his skin. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she had her eyes closed. She crouched down to face him and put a hand on his cheek. It seemed like she was fighting not to hug him because if she did she wouldn’t have been able to break away. Instead she said: “They’re people who can help you, they’re gonna take you somewhere nice, somewhere you’ll be better.” He didn’t understand. He didn’t want to be better, he wanted to be with her. Then Mum pushed him gently, toward the ship. The iron monster swayed on black waters, claiming its meal. “Mum, I don't wanna go” he said, but already the hairy hand of one of the men checking the ship had grabbed him, pulling his little arm, and he didn’t have the time to hear Mum shouting she loved him, to be careful. Now he was in the middle of the sea, floating on that hostile expanse of water, and he clung tighter to his bag, that he never left since he went on board. All those days he’d been quietly nestled in his corner, hoping for a ration of food that did not always come and learning to observe people. From what he heard, he figured out it was not easy to get on a ship like that, and get to the destination was even harder. Many would have liked to, some tried but only a few were actually able to manage it. Now he understood a bit better why Mum didn’t come with him, but that didn’t keep him from missing her. “What are you doing here, kid?” a voice asked. He looked up to an old man with a long beard and a wooden hat. “I’m trying to sleep.” “Well, it doesn’t surprise me you can’t, with all this hustle and bustle” mumbled the old man, sitting down near to him. His knees made an alarming sound, but he didn’t seem to care. “Have you at least eaten something?” He poked his arm with a finger. “You’re all skin and bones.” “No, the last round was yesterday morning.” The old man sighted and glanced up. “The sky is actually always the same, y’know, but everyday it seems different.” He didn’t understand the meaning, but it didn’t matter. The old man’s voice had a strange music, like home, like when Mum sang him to sleep. They remained quiet for a bit. The old man breathed heavily and he didn’t know what to answer because the hunger in his belly silenced every thought. Then the old man spoke again: “Don’t worry, kid, I’m sure there’ll be a wonderful sky when we get there.” The ship approached, lazily ploughing the ocean, and the Statue watched all those people reaching out to shorten the distance between them and her coppery body. In the middle of that sea of eyes, there was a child, his mouth half open and his eyelids half closed, as if he was tasting the breeze that messed around with his hair. The sight of that little guest shone as bright as light on waves. For the whole time he kept his chin up and his little hands on the handrail. He was perfectly still. He seemed to be seeing everything, that he knew how to enjoy it. The Statue smiled. The child sensed it and opened his eyes wide into those big and green of the Statue. Finally, some days later, when the child managed to climb up to the top of her torch, the Statue rose on her toes, just a bit, to make sure he could see what he had already seen from the clouds. And the child smiled back.
Supervisione della professoressa Roberta Ferrari.