The First Thing Giulia Unpacked

A fictional remembrance story set in Italy.

Through three rented flats in Bologna, Giulia had one small companion: a chestnut rabbit named Nocciola, Italian for hazelnut.

Every move followed the same pattern. Giulia worried about the unfamiliar rooms. Nocciola investigated the cardboard boxes, claimed a corner of the rug and stretched out as though she already owned the place.

Giulia would sit beside her, surrounded by things she had not unpacked, and finally feel able to breathe.

By the time Giulia saved enough to buy a little flat of her own, Nocciola had grown old. She passed away a few weeks before the keys were ready.

On moving day, Giulia carried her belongings upstairs. Then she stood in the empty living room and cried. She had spent years imagining this home with Nocciola in it.

She bought a Wooden Photo Urn from FurLunea to hold Nocciola’s ashes. In the front, she placed her favourite photograph: Nocciola sitting inside a packing box, one ear visible above the cardboard.

It was the first thing Giulia unpacked.

That evening, her sister called to ask whether she had settled in.

“Almost,” Giulia said, looking towards the photograph. “Nocciola has already found her place.”

The furniture could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, someone familiar had come home with her.