Good things come in small packages

“Good things come in small packages”…. five words that warmed the crying heart of an 8 year old. These words have stuck with me forever. Spoken out of a mouth that was soft like butter but a personality strong as the wind.

My darling Nonna (Grandmother) who spoke these words left an imprint on my heart and will be forever treasured since she has left planet earth 18 months ago. A memory of a significant moment in time that transformed something painful into something I am now proud of.

A 9 year old me. Petite with caramel skin inherited from the lineage of a father from exotic India and a mother from picturesque Italy. 
Bullied for being small and brown in a country school of tall caucasians. Feeling insignificant because of my height and heritage. Feeling like an outsider amongst these white ghosts peering down on me. Feeling like I am not welcome amongst the nuns in charge of my Catholic primary school education.

Good things come in small packages.

“Mum, mum, measure me today! I think I’ve grown!”. The 10 year old me would close my bedroom door and stand in front of my animal measuring chart with it’s vibrant colours and jungle theme.

I can still feel the hard timber against my back as I pressed myself against the door and strained my neck vertical to be as tall as I could be. 
Hoping, wishing, praying that I had grown taller..even a centimetre would be fine. Our annual school photo’s were coming up and I wondered if I would ever be able to stand for school photo’s? It was always the shortest sitting at the front and the tallest get to stand you see.

Oh…Another year sitting.

Good things come in small packages I reminded myself.

It’s Saturday and we have lunch at my Auntie’s for my older cousin’s birthday. The air is filled with the aroma of lamb curry and rice. 11 year old me is wondering around, eating and socialising with my Indian side of the family. I can over hear my grandmother chatting to a family friend and I head in her direction. Around the corner I go and then ….

“Yes, Gabriella is pretty but too small she is. So short”.

I stop, and turn around, back the way I came, away from my dad’s mother.

Good things come in small packages.

12 year old me is sitting in the back of the car on the way home from the electronics store. My parents just bought a new computer and I can’t wait to go on it. It has a Spiderman game and the Internet. When it’s my turn to have a go, I search on yahoo “ How to make yourself taller “.

A few minutes later I see an article for surgery to make yourself taller. The process is not for the fainthearted. A doctor breaks the tibia and fibula bones in two and inserts a telescoping rod directly into the cartilage. Over a period of roughly three months, the rod gradually pulls the bones apart, about 1 millimeter a day. 
Then, as the leg bones are stretched apart, the body’s natural healing response is to grow new bone, nerves, arteries, and skin to renew the area and replace the gap. The bone break requires strategic precision and the bone must be stretched apart slowly enough so that new bone continues to grow, but fast enough so that it does not heal too quickly. After this process, a very demanding physical therapy regimen is necessary, as the bone can take up to 5 months to heal properly. The result of the $30,000 procedure s about 5cm of extra height. I log off the computer.

Good things come in small packages.

It’s our first date and I am so excited. He saw my picture on Instagram and we have been speaking for a few months before he convinced me to meet. He’s tall with green eyes and dark hair. He has a chiselled jaw and high cheek bones. He is a dream.


I pull up to his house (because he temporarily lost his drivers license) and we drive off to get Sushi. After about 15 minutes on the road, chatting in the car, I park. Like a true gentleman he gets out first and opens my car door. I grab my handbag and step out.

“Oh you’re so petite I loveeeeeee it “ he gushes. I look up at him and had a sparkle in my eye for the rest of the night.

Three years later, he asked me to be his wife with a small box and a diamond ring inside.

Good things come in small packages.

I am so thankful for grandmother for always encouraging me to achieve greatness. For being my biggest supporters in whatever endeavour I decided to undertake.

My Nonna who fled worn-torn Italy and came to Australia when she 30 years young. Spent 30 days on a boat with minimal food, on her way to a foreign country without having one word of English in her vocabulary. Taking with her only memories and life lessons of her native home.

For cheering the loudest at my athletics carnivals and always sitting front row in my dance concerts. For ringing our family in Italy and proudly telling them all of my school and life accomplishments. 


A woman who was fierce like a lion but so affectionate and loving. A Nonna with not much in the bank but whose wisdom was worth her weight in gold.

And now, here I am. Snuggling my petite 17 month old daughter. My little mini with her big, chocolate brown eyes, caramel skin and curly hair.

“Oh..,she’s very small for her age” said the random lady at the grocery store.

And I reply with a smile,

“Good things come in small packages”.