Memories of Arona
It was a cool breezy evening. I spent it on the porch reading. It was getting late, I was getting tired, so I decided to go upstairs and get ready for bed. I unpinned the rose brooch from my dress. It slipped from my fingers and fell on the floor. I quickly bent down to pick it up. As I did so, I glanced at it and smiled. My mind flashed back to the summer of 1972. I had gone to Arona, on the Lago Maggiore with my father.
My ex-husband and I were having serious marital problems. I was persuaded to accompany my father to Italy. I left my children with an aunt in Israel. She visited us in Tehran often. My children loved her. She was a fun person, living in Savyon with a spacious garden and a dog called Laddie who played with the kids. It was a much-needed respite for me.
In Arona, we stayed in a family-run hotel called La Rocca facing the serene lake. My father gave me space to think and reflect while he attended to his business meetings. The meals on the terrace, the sailboats passing by, and the picturesque surroundings brought a sense of peace. I remember the pleasure of strolling through the town’s charming streets, admiring the artistic creations in the local market.
One day, as my father went to Milano for business, I wandered through Arona, finding solace in exploring the narrow streets and enjoying a moment of self-reflection at a café. Stumbling upon a jewelry shop, I acquired a long-stemmed rose brooch that brought me joy and became a symbol of embracing life’s challenges. Tonight, picking up that brooch, I recall my father’s unwavering love during that transformative trip to Arona. His love continues to comfort me, a lasting memory of gratitude and affection.