From the Hearth of La Befana

My dearest …,

I am old, I am covered in soot, and I have been flying since before your grandmother's grandmother. Every year I come down the chimneys of this country and every year I read the names aloud to myself on the way. Last night I read yours: .

They will tell you my story and it is a sad one, so I will tell it to you plainly. Three travellers once stopped at my door and asked me to come with them to find a baby. I said I was too busy sweeping. By the time I changed my mind they were gone, and I have been out looking ever since.

So here is the thing I would like you to take from an old woman with a broom, . When somebody asks you to come, and it sounds like a lot of bother, and the floor is not finished — go anyway. The floor will still be there. That is the whole of my advice and it cost me a great deal.

I noticed , and I thought: that one is already better at this than I was. I left something in your stocking. If there is a little coal in it too, that is only my joke — everyone gets some.

Sweep your own floor, and be good to travellers,
with love from an old woman —

La Befana

She Who Is Still Looking

P.S. — The soot on the hearth in the morning is mine and I will not apologise for it. I sweep for a living. I do not tidy up after myself.