Nonna’s Biscuits: A Reflection on Family Bonds

March 2022

Soulful food.

Soulful stories.

Warmth. Kindness. Love.

Recently, my 23 year old daughter, Moni, happily cleared space in our cosy kitchen and began preparing dough for the cuzzupe. She'd stumbled on a friend’s Instagram page, who was sharing recipes from her family's region of Calabria. Moni was drawn to the prospect of recreating something delicious, but as I watched her, I knew she was seeking a deeper connection to her own grandparent’s Italian culture, asking me about their origins as she scattered flour across the benchtop.

Moni talks of her grandma and papa as sacred beings. The memories she describes are not indicative of any kind of monetary value. It’s having a bubble bath each week when she stayed over as a child, and grandma placing her Winnie the Pooh pyjamas warming by the gas heater for her to snuggle into after her bath. It’s slipping into grandma’s recliner and having her curly hair gently blow dried by her. It’s nestling into papa’s arms as he educates her about volcanoes and geological landscapes. It’s eating bowls of pastina soup, with crusty bread and mature cheese on the side. It’s baking cakes and licking the bowl. It’s making dams in the local creek. It’s being reminded she is held in a safe space.

My transition to what our society labels middle age, has brought an inability to suppress the realisation of the fragility of life and the desire for authentic and soulful interactions with others.

We become more wounded if we share heartfelt stories of trauma with those that cannot hold space for us. We move towards healing when we share with those who can.

It is my gift to hold space for others, human essence to human essence; others’ soulful stories that must be honoured and nurtured. Connect with me if you’re yearning to share your sacred stories with a trusted person.