This photo was taken by me during happier times. My ex Ally hugging her Godmother Maria Luna.
Maria was the first person to notice a very young Ally infatuated with the Americano from the beach. She was instrumental in bringing us together, and no one celebrated more at our wedding.
During her final years, she had lost her eyesight and alzheimer’s had stolen her memory. She rarely recognized her children.
But whenever I kissed her palm, she immediately perked up. “Andresito.” She always said I was the only man who ever kissed her palm.
She taught me along with the infinite sacrifice, there was greatness in being a housewife.
Maria Luna was 97 years young when she passed earlier this morning.
This occurred nine days ago, before my current state of dizziness began.
Knowing a pandemic was sweeping across the world, I expected to find the tourist beach desolate. I wasn’t disappointed.
Before long, I discovered an open beach bar with one sole patron. A beautiful young woman with green eyes that silently spoke to me.
We were both affected by the magic of our eye contact.
My “hola” was followed by her “bonjour.”
My heart sank. UGH! For three years Cynthia from the debate class did my French homework in high school.
Oh, karma had a sadistic way of coming back to bite you right in the croissants. Where was Cynthia now?
Lucie spoke little English, but her accent…..oh it was heavenly. The Beach Boy has a weakness for sexy accents (and hosiery)! Hey, Superman has his kryponite, I have mine.
She had small dainty feet, well manicured, toe nails painted a soft shade of coral, with a sexy sea shell ankle bracelet. I was melting.
We communicated by pointing, through sign language, Google tranlsate on my phone, and glowing smiles. I was in full James Bond mode.
Magic had returned to my life.
I prepared for the right moment to impress her with the only French I remembered, “Le chat est sur la table.” (“The cat is on the table”). Damn my luck, it was a cat-less beach.
Pinkies entwined, we walked the beach. Played frisbee. I explored her soft hands.
Venturing into the water, the rough waves knocked us around, giving her a reason to hold my arms and chest. It allowed me to cling to her bare waist. We shared tender little kisses on the cheek and lips.
Then, came one long lasting kiss, which I felt in my soul. We were alone in the world and the world was ours.
Taking my hand, she led me back to her blanket. Pulling out her cell phone, she swiped through dozens of photos, showing me her man and their wedding pics.
Lucie was married. Apparently, he was in some business meeting.
Looking into my eyes, she pouted before giving me one last kiss. Watching her walk out of my life, my broken heart filled with hope.
Why shouldn’t it?
While a deadly pandemic forced a world to shut its doors in fear, I opened my heart and found love in the time of coronavirus.
a fragile beach of sand where the radiant foam of the shoreline illuminates here and beyond souls of light swim in pomegranates currents transport their innocent flames where they will be doused in the marsh of Styx somewhere in the distance waves roll in they are only felt by me unseeing eyes will fail to witness my footprints erased by the sea
The Lonely Author 