Matteo sang softly, a little uncertainly. There was no sheet music, only memory. Each song was different, changing with whoever sang it, with forgotten words, with improvisations that became new traditions.
The families of Palù waited with excitement. Some offered biscuits, others mulled wine, others a few coins. It was not just hospitality: these offerings also served to support the church and keep the community alive.
House after house, lantern after lantern, the Canta della Stéla round lit up New Year's Eve. The most experienced Stelàri (star singers) led the singing with confidence. The elders spoke nostalgically of the Cante and of the ‘coscritti’ (conscripts) who had carried the star over the years. Matteo listened closely.
When the last lantern went out at the end of the tour, he felt a mixture of pride, gratitude and serenity. He had been afraid of not being up to the task, but instead he had discovered that the Stéla prefers presence to perfection.
And that light that didn't want to come on at first seemed almost like a sign to him: even when tradition seems to be dying out, it only takes a moment for it to shine again. On that New Year's Eve in Palù, Matteo felt that he had lit his light and found his place in the valley.
