"The super moon"

(To Giuseppe Sfacteria)
24/12/16

There is an almost unreal light, in Livorno, when the commander closes the door behind his affections. The pause in the operational activities has given him a little 'rest and the program of the week (which is always "in may", given the changes in operational assessment that are the rule in the life of the sailor) portends a tough job but not stressful , bazzecole ... in short, for a naval officer. So, this time, we allowed a longer weekend, postponing the return to La Spezia on Monday morning, instead of Sunday evening, as usual.

The Moon, never so large and shiny, seems to smile as it snaps the key in the goblet and gates the door.

It is only a month since the assumption of the command. The investiture formula still echoes in his ears "In the name of the Head of State you will recognize the frigate captain Mario Rossi as your commander!" Pronounced by the commander commander in front of the whole crew, making him suddenly responsible for a great and powerful good of the State and the head of a human community that, from then on would have seen in him the father, the guide, the judge.

On the road to La Spezia, try not to think of the small son's smiles, his head resting on his shoulder, to the pleasure of lifting it up and throwing it up, reassuring him safely, causing the child to go crazy in a jolt of joy and face serene of his wife, who was not far away, enjoyed the pleasure of being responsible for such happiness. The car radio launches the metallic and mighty sound of "made in Japan" in the Deep Purple, while the car runs along the highway with the same luster.

The stern watch at the end of the diana shift awaiting her return, fighting with the anxiety of a sudden return, the tiredness of the service. What bad shape would it have been, not to be worthy of the commander aboard?

On board and honored the flag, the commander assures that the thermos coffee is still hot: "Okay, the kitchen guys did their job well, as always. It's nice to see things work. My predecessor worked well, "meditates between himself and herself.

Then the day takes the tip of it: cards to be signed, documents to be approved, staff to be evaluated, decisions to be taken, reports to the higher commands to be drafted and revised. As long as the evening comes, the Gulf of Poets comes in an early crib where the lights of the nearby merchant harbor seem like many comets, framing a picture in which, to complete the enchantment, only the Sacred Family really misses.

Before retiring to his accommodation, the commander turns around in all covered bridges. Check that the ship is in the desired, martial, but clean and decorative layout. He is entertained with the guardian's military and, finally, comes out of a dumbbell. The guard wakes up to attention. "They are also comfortable," says the commander good-bye and goes up the flight deck from the stern. Run the ship and get to the extreme bend, face to face with the cold jack rod.

The Moon, the supernatural of November 14, illuminates the deck almost daily. He looks toward Livorno - which thanks to the Moon seems almost closer - and he thinks to his loved ones. He will soon be able to hear them and, thanks to modern technology, will also be able to revisit the color of his champion and the sweet face of his wife.

Then he sees, on the deck of the ship to his right, a bourgeois marina and a young officer who exchanges a kiss, prohibited under normal conditions. But today is the day of the superlunas, of the crib in advance at Spezia. It is right that even humans live a moment of magic.