That Little Extra Something

It's Christmas cookie season. I didn't get a lot of cookies as gifts in the States, but in Italy with a few friends and students it's become a tradition. As a true cookie connoisseur (one who appreciates lots of butter and sugar) I can't say I'm terribly excited about the cookies I'm given. It's the packaging that interests me. Some come on a shiny, gold, cardboard tray wrapped in cellophane. Others come in tiny, clear bags tied with jute and have a little tag with the ingredients.

One of my favorite packages is from a lady that lives on the island. She has six kids. They're all married (that makes 12) and they all have kids (I think they're up to 29). Yet, year after year she finds time to deliver what I call dry, butterless hearts, stars and braids (an Italian tradition loved by Italians). For me the best part is the little brown bag with a strip of gold tinsel stapled to the top. There's always a note attached (it's usually about Jesus) and it's written in English (just for me) by one of her kids or grandkids.

This year, the day after Christmas, the island cookies made their way to the mountains with us. Upon arrival they were unpacked and put in the fruit bowl. I know that's not the best place for cookies, but seeing that they seemed to lack sugar and butter, I thought it might be just enough to make me eat an apple.

The following day I saw the bag with tinsel just as it was about to be torn apart and thrown in the fire. When I asked why, I was calmy told, "E' solo qualcosa in piu', no?" I stopped the burning of my favorite cookie bag just in time and explained that the packaging was the best part. It's what reminded me of Maria; the stapled tinsel and the part about Jesus.

The rest of the day I found myself quietly repeating the phrase, "E' solo qualcosa in piu'." It literally translates as 'it's just something more', but in English it doesn't have the same ring to it. I asked the almost arsonist for a synonymous sentence and was told "E' qualcosa di superfluo." Perfect. It's just something superfluous. That gets the feeling across.

I find it sad that an obsession with order leaves no room for superfluousness; something I consider an enhancement to an otherwise dull life. There was definitely room in the fruit bowl for a little gold tinsel. We should always have room for superfluous things, and if we don't, we should make room.

We're told that when life gives us lemons we should make lemonade. And I think when it gives us cookies baked with so much love there's no room for sugar, we should enjoy the tinsel.