below another sky: Nutcracker

Nutcracker

I remember some evenings after dinner, when I was little, when my mom roasted nuts. My dad always cracked them open for me. He'd watch me struggle with the nutcracker and in the time it would take me to mutilate one nut, he'd have five of the hardest ones sitting in a pile for me. "Te" he'd say, the Sicilian form of "here".
Then he'd take my mutilated nut and pick out the tiny pieces for himself.
My favorite nuts were the long ones with the almost black shell, shaped like a flint, with a creamy white nut inside...they were the most difficult to open...I think they're called Brazil nuts.

Now that I'm older, I have to crack the nuts open myself, and I'm still terrible at it. His hands are still bigger, and still stronger, no matter how old I get.