The Miracle

A mother's love.

Caterina was a “widow of emigration,” one of many women in the village who, shortly after their wedding, remained at home to take care of house and children while their husbands emigrated to a distant country in search of fortune. Her husband saw not even the shadow of a fortune. He did find work but earned just enough to meet the basic necessities of life and to send a few liras back home to help his wife with the daily expenses.

These expenses increased as time went by as their son, Francesco, known as Ciccineddu, grew up. He was their only son, born shortly after Caterina had given the last embrace to her husband, and each day was dedicated to the development of mama’s jewel. Ciccineddu developed into a teenager of medium height, frivolous of character, nervous of temperament, gregarious of attitude, average intelligence, and limited ambition. Caterina maintained constant vigilance over her son. Her presence in the neighborhood was announced more than once a day with her ritual cry of calling her son’s name three times in succession, followed by a pause. If she did not hear a reply, Caterina would move up and down the street repeating the call, “Ciccineddu, Ciccineddu, Ciccineddu.”

Ciccineddu completed the elementary school cycle with average grades, distinguishing himself largely for his capacity to gain with the least amount of effort the minimum grades necessary to pass. For Caterina, her son was a genius.

“Promoted every year without missing a beat,” she would tell friends and relatives, “like a Swiss watch.”

Ciccineddu’s schoolmate and friend Alfredo lived three houses down the road. At the end of elementary school, they passed the entrance exams to middle school and enrolled in two separate, private boarding schools located in small towns not far from their village. During the three years of middle school, the two friends went back home for the Christmas, Mardi Gras, and Easter festivities and also for their long summer holidays. The two mothers visited the schools often to discuss the progress of their children’s studies, never forgetting to show their generous gratitude for the honor of having their children enrolled in such prestigious schools. They also never failed to visit the school chapels to implore the Lord, the Virgin Mary, and their favorite Saints to instill discipline and a strong desire for learning in the two boys. Additionally, they wanted to open the minds of the teachers so they would recognize the immense intellectual potential of their sons. Their gratitude towards the teachers was expressed in a more tangible manner at the end of the school year when the results were announced, and the two boys learned that they had been promoted. The promotion of their children to the next grade also served to strengthen their faith in God because it provided a visible example that their prayers had been heard.

Ciccineddu barely passed his second year despite intensified prayers and greater generosity on the part of Caterina. Alfredo was promoted with high marks. Each time Caterina and Alfredo’s mother got together, the latter made sure to turn the discussion to her son’s school performance. Caterina had to listen to the bragging as her stomach turned into knots. To keep her sanity, she stayed inside as much as possible and checked whether Alfredo’s mother was outside before venturing out of the house.

The boys’ last year of middle school was the most difficult. At year end, the students had to take a general exam administered by professors from other classes and even from other schools. Because these exams were a requirement for entering high school, private and public, it was necessary to enforce uniform standards. It was difficult to find out the names of the examining professors in advance. Only a few privileged families had access to that information. Therefore, Caterina and her neighbor were not able to show their generous nature to the examining professors before the date of the exams.

Caterina couldn’t survive another summer couped up in the house to avoid meeting Alfredo’s mother. She was faced with existential challenges that required drastic action. As a first step, she visited Professor Rizzuto, a bachelor in his late forties who resided with his parents and made a good living giving remedial lessons in all subjects and to students of all ages. His reputation as the foremost man of learning in the village had earned him the respect of all parents, who considered it a privilege when he accepted their children as pupils.

One evening Caterina put on her Sunday dress, combed her hair and covered it with a brown shawl, and with Ciccineddu by her side also dressed as if he were going to church, walked to Professor Rizzuto’s house. The professor was in his study preparing lessons for the next day. He opened the door and invited mother and son in.

Noticing many books on the large study desk, Caterina said apologetically, “I see that we have disturbed you, but it’s a matter of great importance. Ciccineddu has to get ready for the middle school final exams and wants to be well prepared. My son is intelligent, respectful, and hard working. He deserves the best; that's why we have come to ask for your help.”

“Well, let me see.” The professor pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and checked his calendar.

Knowing the esteemed professor had the habit of grouping students of the same grade in the same time slot, she pre-empted his reply.

“Ciccineddu is a very sensitive boy and becomes distracted when he is company of other students; we would really appreciate if you could give him individual lessons.”

Professor Rizzuto had expected this request because the same request had been made a day earlier by Alfredo’s mother. He was able to accommodate both requests, naturally raising the price to cover the costs of the special arrangements.

“It will require some juggling of my timetable,” he said with a solemn voice, “but it can be done.” He paused. “But the extra time will cost a bit more.”

Relieved by this positive answer, Caterina thanked the professor, asked for the day and time of the first lesson, and departed promptly for fear of wasting too much of the professor’s time.

The first part of that summer went by with the two friends spending little time together, Ciccineddu going to his lessons in the morning, playing outside in the afternoon when Alfredo was at the house of Professor Rizzuto, and doing his homework in the evening.

As a second step, Caterina went to Messina to purchase three small statues at the store of the Paoline nuns: the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and Saint Anthony. She cleared a corner of her bedroom, placed a chest of drawers she had received from her mother, and put the three statues on top together with a votive candle in front of each one. Every night before going to bed, she lit the candles, knelt in front of the statues, and recited her prayers, imploring Jesus, Mary, and Saint Anthony to help Ciccineddu with his exams.

Neither Professor Rizzuto’s lessons nor Caterina’s evening prayers bore fruit. When she opened the envelope sent by the school, she almost fainted. Ciccineddu had failed the exams. She immediately thought of Alfredo’s mother. His exams took place a week after Ciccineddu’s.

I must keep praying.

“I feel very weak,” she said to her son, “and need rest and quiet. Let’s stay at home for a few days and keep company out.”

Ciccineddu did not understand the reason for his mother’s sudden malaise and the need to be confined to the house but obeyed without question. After a few days went by, Ciccineddu became restless and wanted to know why he was being kept in confinement.

“You must be feeling better by now, ma; why can’t I go out and play with my friends?”

Caterina needed a few more days of isolation and without explaining her reasons, replied in a calm voice. “You must have patience, dear. I am waiting for a miracle. Just a couple more days and you will see everything will be fine.”

The day of liberation came soon enough. On a bright afternoon, Caterina opened the patio door, walked onto the balcony, and extended her arms straight towards heaven like antennae. Then, with a voice not too loud, yet audible throughout the neighborhood, she exclaimed, “A miracle, a true miracle. Thanks to God.”

Caterina remained silent for a short while, her arms still extended, and her eyes turned towards the sky, then she turned around and went back into the house.

This strange apparition and those sibylline words generated great turmoil among the women living in Caterina’s neighborhood. Discovering the reasons for Caterina’s unusual behavior and deciphering her cryptic expression of gratitude became for them an obsession that disrupted the order of their daily lives. They could not sleep at night as their minds were circling endlessly around the image of Caterina in the balcony. They lost all interest in cooking and became so tired they were no longer able to respond to the demands of their husbands and children. This puzzle had to be solved, and fast. Desperate to return to normal life, they decided to join their investigative and analytical capacities, sharpened by years of individual practice and collective endeavors, and initiated a rigorous process of testing various ideas on how to crack Caterina’s secret code.

“Maybe her husband made a lot of money,” said one neighbor.

“Maybe her husband has decided to come back home,” another replied.

“I don’t think so,” a third one commented. “My brother lives in the same town as Caterina’s husband and he knows nothing of such plans.”

Exasperated at their failure to solve the puzzle, they decided to confront Caterina directly at the most opportune moment and with great tact.

“This is God’s secret,” was Caterina’s reply. And so it remained.

Heartened by the effect of God’s secret, Caterina decided that so providential a miracle deserved an appropriate celebration. She immediately started preparing for a feast to be held in her basement’s family room. It was a large room, partly used for storage but easily cleared up for a celebration. The room was large enough to hold a fair number of chairs along the side, a table for sweets and refreshments in one corner, and a table for a gramophone in the other. It had a smooth cement floor that was suitable for dancing. Caterina finalized the guest list patiently and strategically included a couple of adult female neighbors with whom she could chat while keeping an eye on the young boys. She selected male friends of Ciccineddu either from the elementary school days or from the neighborhood. She also invited Alfredo and his mother, but they declined, producing a lame excuse.

The feast was a great success. The table in the left corner had been loaded with all the good stuff that the young boys liked, such as orange pop, lemonade, anise cookies, lifesaver candies, and chocolate wafers. At the back of the table Caterina placed a photo of her husband, presiding with an authoritative expression over these activities. For the music, Caterina borrowed from mastro Nino, the local carpenter, the gramophone, and some records�"mainly polkas and waltzes. The young boys had a great time, exchanging school stories, laughing, pigging out on sweets, and drinking inordinate amounts of pop.

When the feast was over and the guests returned to their homes, Ciccineddu went to bed exhausted but happy. Caterina retired to her bedroom, prepared for bed, knelt in front of her sanctuary, and started to pray.

“I thank you all for your goodness,” began Caterina, whispering so that she could be heard by the Lord, the Virgin, and Saint Anthony without disturbing Ciccineddu, who was sleeping next door.

“This was a monumental miracle. I vow to participate in the processions of the Holy Week dressed like a nun, and barefoot. And that’s not enough. I will make the trip to the sanctuary in the mountain, on foot, round trip.”

Caterina took a brief respite, filling her lungs by taking a long breath, and then continued with her prayers.

“When I received Ciccineddu’s report card which showed in a very cruel manner that he had failed the exam, for me it was a deadly blow. I would have dropped dead of a broken heart had I not been rescued by the fear of leaving my son a poor lost orphan. What sacrifices. How many wasted presents. All for nothing. But you, Sacro Cuore di Gesu’, Madonna Misericordiosa, Sant’Antonio Miracoloso, saw my heart torn apart and in your infinite mercy, you had compassion for this poor but devoted mother. When I heard that Alfredo had also failed the exams, I realized immediately that it was the miracle I had prayed for, that it was a providential response to my ardent supplications.”

With this internal confirmation of her theological certitude, Caterina stood up, turned off the light and went to bed.

Next day, Ciccineddu and Alfredo returned to their normal outdoor activities, playing together and with other children. Caterina’s neighbors were satisfied with the feast and stopped investigating the miracle, diverted by new developments. Caterina went outside as soon as she heard the bells signaling noon.

“It’s dinner time already,” she said to her neighbor. “I’d better call my son.” And with those words she started her traditional cry.

Ciccineddu, who was playing with Alfredo around the corner, heard his mother’s call but, as usual, did not answer as he wanted her to repeat the call three times. The power of the miracle had dissipated under the summer’s scorching sun and the normal rhythm of life had returned to the neighborhood.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

What a great story. Well-told and grammatically correct, I enjoyed it very much. I'd say you're an excellent storyteller.
Don't all mothers want their children to do well? Some, perhaps many, will even pray for it to be so. I must say that I hoped Caterina wouldn't pray the prayer that she did, but it came out well, perhaps for the best of all involved. A missing word here--"...when he is company of other..."