Thus an old proverb from Istria—and most likely Veneto, as well—that my mother recalls from time to time. Santa Lucia is today, the day my parents got married sixty-four years ago in Zagreb. This was ten years before I was born in the same town. The war came in between, of course. Nadal, or Natale in Italian, is Christmas. That is, from St. Lucy’s to Christmas is only a cock’s step, which is to say, not very much. All this came up again this morning, when I wished my mother a happy anniversary. She thanked me in the name of my father, too.