Mom
Eva is the heart of the family — the one who knows when to hug and when to let a child fall and get back up on their own. In the morning she runs before everyone wakes up, and in the evening she reads to the kids before bed. In a small notebook she secretly writes poetry about moments no one notices — about the way Pino holds a spoon, about the look in Vito's eyes when he watches the stars. When Eva smiles, the whole room grows warmer.
Eva and Dundo had a rare day off without the kids. Otto and Maria eagerly stepped in, babysitting the little ones while the couple decided to revisit the place they first met. As they approached the old wooden bridge over the stream, Eva reminisced about that evening, while Dundo had a special gift hidden in his pocket.
In the backyard lay a broken swing, and Dundo and Pino were getting ready to fix it. Little Vito sat on the grass, holding a box of screws, while Jole sniffed around, eagerly waiting for his chance to help. "How are we going to fix this, Dad?" Pino asked, as Eva watched and smiled from the window.
It was a typical afternoon in Vallumora when Maria noticed Loli was missing. "Loli!" Maria called out, but there was no response. Vito started crying, while Pino nervously paced in the kitchen. "Where's Loli?" asked a worried Pino. No one had an answer. "We have to find her!" declared Maja, already sketching a poster with Loli's picture. But as they gathered to discuss the search plan, they heard an unusual sound coming from the attic...
When Vito was three years old, he noticed that the Moon had a hole. At least it seemed that way — every night the Moon looked smaller and smaller, as if someone was taking bites out of it. "Mama, the Moon is breaking!" he shouted one night. Mama laughed. "Those are phases, Vito. The Moon isn't breaking." But Vito wasn't convinced. He packed glue, tape, cloth, and a flashlight into a small backpack. "I'm going to fix the Moon," he declared. His father, sitting in the living room reading the newspaper, lowered his glasses and looked at his son. Most parents would have said, "Don't be silly." Or: "Go to sleep." But Vito's father wasn't like most parents. "Alright," he said. "But you'll need help. I know someone who tried the same thing once." Vito looked at him with wide eyes. "Who?" "Me. When I was your age, I wanted to fix something that couldn't be fixed. Come, I'll tell you what happened..."
In a small town by the river lived an old grandfather, Otto, who spent his life building bridges. Stone, wooden, suspension — all kinds. People came from far away to see his bridges because none of them ever collapsed. But Otto had an unusual habit. Every bridge he built, he would — after finishing it — spend the entire night on it. Alone, in silence, under the stars. His grandson Pino, who was eight years old, decided to follow him one evening. He hid behind a pillar and watched his grandfather sitting in the middle of the new bridge, legs dangling over the stone railing, whispering something to the river. "Grandpa, who are you talking to?" shouted Pino, unable to hold back any longer.
Maja inherited her grandfather's pocket watch. It was old, scratched, and — it was running late. Exactly three minutes every day. "Mom, why did grandpa leave me a broken watch?" Maja asked one evening as they sat on the balcony. Eva took the watch in her hands, turned it over, and showed her the back. There was a small engraving that Maja had noticed before but never read. The letters were tiny, worn from years of wear. Maja brought the watch closer to her eyes and began to read. When she finished, her hands were trembling. "Mom... this can't be true?" Eva simply nodded. "Your grandfather, Otto, told me this story only once. On the day I got married. He said a day would come when you would be ready to hear it too. I think today is that day."
