42 years old, Natasha. I met at the house of an old aunt. Does the caregiver. One of 350 thousand Moldovan women who have decided to leave their family there to try a little 'luck abroad and thus make a living somehow, survive the ugly history of an empire collapsed after an unfortunate lapse. You had to be able to study the two children, beloved children, dear!

Natasha came from the countryside north of the country, not far from Chisinau, the capital: everything is close in Moldova. They grow a bit 'of beets, a bit' of grapes, a bit 'of something else. A bit 'of everything and a bit' of anything, certainly labor, hunger, or just about missing. At 17 he had married Anton, a big man, a tough, one that did not use sweet words, it was not convenient for a man. She had made her pregnant soon after the wedding, almost brutally. As brutal mother-in-law had just appeared, a witch not by nature but because beating from the weather and the storms of a life of misery "to the Soviet". Poverty of material goods but also spiritual.

Study and work, Natasha, to keep her man-nothing and the little finch that had given birth to seven months in tears after the wedding. Anton already betrayed her with other women, and especially with other bottles. Plague, pounding. The only thing that Natasha asked the mother-in-law was to look at her small: in the morning left him in the chair with three bottles of milk per day. But that evening he came home and the milk was spilled on the ground, mixed with pee and poop in the small tears dropped.

Also gave birth to a girl, then fled. Full of bruises and sores, in soul and body. He emigrated to Italy, was hunger. He went into a city center: other injuries, other marginalized other abuses. He climbed a bit 'more to the North, found refuge in a shelter of some nun who lived for love and charity received date. Well she fits into that most Christian practice. It was Orthodox, but had difficulties to say Catholic, "Jesus is the same God is the same, why split?.

He found a job, then a second, third, fourth. He found my aunt, an elderly widow, smiling and generous. A new mother. He immediately felt a new daughter. The attended the night, led to mass and do the shopping, and he advised her counsel. Studied again, she was a teacher and became a nurse. A rebirth.

Even had the strength to operate a family reunion, not only with the two older children now, but even with her husband. Power of conjugal love, he managed to snatch a devastating alcoholism and cause him to seek and find work as a mason. Just feet again, he died of a heart attack. "But I sent in clear skies clean, without blemish, as it was born."

Peter Parmense