As I drove down an obscure, insanely rough, red-dirt road in Baja, I came around a corner, there on my right suddenly reared up an enormous storm-grey rock, as big as a two-story house.
What is that doing there?!? I slammed on the brakes. I had to check this out. As I looked closer, I could see that it was indeed a house! Windows peppered the sides of the stone, their glass glinting in the sun.
The palm trees swayed and shissssed, and gulls swirled around the top of the rock, way high up in the air.
And there, sitting in the shade of its overhang on a ledge above me, surrounded by three huge dogs whose coats shine like silver and gold in the sun, you sat untangling and folding a pile of a little kid’s onesies.
You were quietly singing – crooning, really – the sweetest little song, over and over:
How old are you now?
How old are you now?
You know Mommy loves you!
How old are you now?
How big you are now!
How big you’ve got now!
You know Mommy loves you!
How big you are now!
I walked up the path to your ledge. The sun was behind me, so you couldn’t see who I was, and you looked alarmed, like, how did you find me? raced across your face.
I turned a little so you could see my face better, and you tossed down the onesies you’d been folding, ran over to me and engulfed me in a huge hug. The dogs sat up, ears perked, and started woofing happy-sounding barks.
“Angela! Angela! Oh my god! How did you find us? Where have you been? What are you doing here?”
Right then a gigantic man strides out from under the overhang, and stops next to you, wrapping a long muscular arm over your shoulders protectively.
He’s one of those incredibly magazine-cover-handsome Mexican men – I bet mentally that he had that perpetual beaming-ear-to-ear-beautiful-white-white-teeth smile going on 24/7, no matter what was going on. Love radiates from his body in almost tangible beams of light.
Riding on his city-width shoulders is the most adorable curly-haired tow-headed two-year old girl you ever saw.
In Spanish he asks if you’re OK, and you beam a big smile back at him.
“We went to Mexico City and annulled the old marriage,” you say, as you turn to me, and introduce us.
“Then we came out here and got married again, this time, under the sun by the crashing waves and sighing palm trees. It was glorious!”
A wash of complete adoration breaks over your face as you look up at him, and he reflects it right back to you. You both turn back to me, and welcome me in, and we go inside.
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THE KISS
© Angela Treat Lyon 2024
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