Sugo

After years of quiet acquiescence,

walking softly, not coughing or sneezing

burping or heaven forbid anything else

at an inopportune moment,

after denying

oneself for the other in the name of

their sacred trust for thirty-six years

together, Angela decided to make a break

with tradition,

even though her husband

withheld his approval of her pursuing,

of all things, a driver's license, at age

sixty-one!

What the dickens did she

need a license for anyway? Didn't she

have him there as her personal chauffeur

whenever she needed to make a run to

Lombardo's Italian Supermarket to pick

up some fresh cloves of garlic, oregano,

extra virgin olive oil or fresh tortellini ?

wasn't he always "Johnny on the spot",

to drive her to the parish hall bingo games

or up to "The Lake"?

What was the world coming to with all this

independence and usurpation of Emilio's

role as husband and provider

for the famiglia? Once something like

this starts, there's no putting it back

in the box. "Piano, piano si va lontano".

she'd start out little by little but she'd

go a long way.

The next thing you know, Angela will be

wanting to do something really crazy,

like run for city council. She might even

end up looking for a job and once she starts

working she might not need to depend

on Emilio as much, no, it's beyond

imagination. No good could possibly come

of this desire to get a driver's license.

It's out of the question!

A year later, Angela pulls up in her shiny,

silver Fiat cinquecento, with a sunroof and

spoiler on the back,

Emilio jumps up from

his recliner, and races to meet her in the driveway

to unload the groceries from her trunk.

Some marriages, like sugo, need to simmer

a long, long while before they're any good.

-C.A. McCoy

(c) 2012