Marta Weeks Loving Me Gently February 2015
It was, for the most part, an unusual journey. I call it a journey because a trip is going to a place; a journey is taking time and letting a place and the people you share the time with take you into their experience.
Like loving gently and letting oneself live again.
It was more than Paris and Spain and the Azores Islands. It was just the two of us discovering, uncovering, and recovering our passion.
Traveling in and around Paris. The wonder, the romance, the old and exotic taking us to be part of memories and experiences of a land that grew as if from an artist's palette and brush of dreams.
In the wonderment of it all, just the two of us driving from Madrid to Lalin, Spain, finding so much more than we ever expected. And, in a historical place, that came to me in the name of my daughter and later materialized as I wrote my novel VIRGINS.
Feeling an angel tell me, in a church of the ancient times and the dark of our room, his true sense of being. Just the two of us feeling the passing of time and the birth of tomorrow as we drove from Pontevedra to Santiago de Compostela.
Across green valleys, rolling hills, and sky-scraping mountains. Amid cities, villages, castles, and rivers meandering, and then to the unexpected liveliness and elegance of Burgos and impeccable highways landscaped in history into the tumultuous fullness of Barcelona.
In the wonder of wonderment of the simple majesty of it all, like children holding hands with great grand that in time they never met but gave them birth. The new from the old, the simple from the ornate, a culture, a people so different and yet, as if we knew each other as forever best friends.
Boarding a ship with a thousand others. All dreams mingled all dreams in a dream of eternity; let it never end, not in the ports of Valencia, Malaga, or the Azores.
We travel with others, just the two of us, with many strangers. Now friendly faces and hearts that touched just for a moment in the eternity of moments and life, and all that glitters in a violinist concerto of magical melody and the rocking sounds of blues and rock and roll.
To the music from our pasts, all of us hold- ing hands in pairs, crossing arms, dining with each other. Sharing how it is where we came from and the lives and loves that wait for our return.
Just the two of us, like petals of smiling faces, full hearts, passionate memories of years we left behind and those for whom we bought train- kets and praised here and there.
Looking forward to the return of just the two of us into the fold.
Marta Weeks, and her husband, John, went on a trip to Europe last fall. Marta succumbed to the ex- experience, as noted above. She is an avid reader of anthropology, history, and the spiritual and supernatural phenomena. After years of extensive research, she is ready to submit her VIRGINS manuscript to interested Publishers, or she will self-publish her book. You can send comments to the Author at EdBoardemail@example.com.