I’d like to introduce you today to a dear blog friend of mine. I love his perspective on life, love, parenting, and everything that falls in the squares in between. He’s got a great, unique voice (exemplified below) and I’ve been begging him to appear here for months. When he asked if I wouldn’t mind giving this wonderfully romantic story a home, of course I jumped at the opportunity! If you’d like to follow the rest of his adventures, please click here (it’s a link to his secondary blog).
Have you ever found love on vacation? Let us know in the comments!
Where do I start?
I can’t start at the end – which wasn’t really the end. It was a theatrical goodbye which, when it happened, carried the hope that there could be another goodbye later. It carried considerable wonder and sorrow and it happened on battered bricks in the middle of a Mexican marketplace.
I could start at the beginning, but at the very beginning, I didn’t know it was the very beginning. I could start with the tic-tac-toe game because that was pivotal. Also, the quest to figure out what the hell a mamey is or the simple marvel that we’re so the same height that our noses are right there.
I’m not even sure this is love at all because you don’t usually say it within four hours of meeting. But you find yourself shopping for groceries and holding hands and loving their quirks and saying, “this is how it would be,” and unless you’re matched with your own element, that’s just weird.
Instead, it’s not weird at all. It’s natural, so much so that you tell the cashier in the souvenir shop that you’re together, but you’re paying separately. Because you live two time zones away, and don’t even know each other’s last names. Crazy, right? But not.
This story actually began at lunch that day, or maybe even before? Could it have, before I sat to write on a windy porch, only to have three friends hijack the rest of the chairs and turn my solitude lunch into one filled with intelligent conversation? Could it have, when I suggested we head to town to shop?
I first spoke with her sister, actually. I couldn’t resist a table of beautiful women – especially when the table contains tacos. We talked about where we’re from and what’s around but the very last sister I met, the one who gave me a fake name, left an imprint I didn’t even recognize.
“You’ve got to go back and talk to them,” Yael said. He’s the friend with the booming voice and laser focus. “The one on the left. Your left.” Yes, I knew what he was talking about, growing impatient suddenly that our cashier operated in low gear. What if they were gone?
I’d offered to escort them into the “shady” marketplace next door, perhaps exaggerating the threat within. I portrayed a scene of villainy when actually a man lazing in a hammock and a hustling woman with loads of bags and trinkets were a threat only to your ability to bargain.
I’ll use her second made-up name because it had similarities to my real first name which we agreed didn’t really need a fake name replacement. Her sisters walked ahead, we dropped behind, and somehow, although I don’t remember the exact words … we melted.
Her sister used the same term for Eliza’s time with me. So 80s, right? But it’s exactly how it happened. Now, I want to tell that story in as great of detail as possible, not only so you can know it, but also so I can live it again. Because it was all so subtle but also one of the biggest things my heart’s ever done.
Right from the start, Eliza took bright yellow beetle off her sister’s blouse and we walked outside the souvenir shop to free it. As we looked for anything green in this concrete forest, our eyes met and we smiled. We were both that person. The one who would walk out of a gift shop to rescue a bug.
I’d gone to Cancun to reflect and write and embrace solitude. The next four hours washed over me in a reminder of what an incredible connection will do to your soul. It ignites it and also calms it. We walked back into the store and resumed our Sunday-afternoon love story.
Stay tuned for part two–coming soon!