A moveable vibe

We promenaded along the tropical coast of Almuñécar

under an illuminated half-moon. It was a particularly

special time of year; Holy Saturday, the night of the 21st

of March. Holy Week's processions were going down every

street and alley which had left even the palm trees under

their sway. The Mediterranean air too was as bracing as

tonic and on we ambled around town.

Inside the town's majestic church the priest lit

the Easter candles from the new fire and the Nazarenos

carried the processional candles along hewn wooden

crosses and walked out to the streets. I guess my heart

was lit even hooked from that moment on and the pasos

paraded along with our budding feelings.

I didn't know him well and we had only been

acquainted for a week, but something about him;

his manners, his eyes, and his toasted Spanish face

made me want to give in. I didn't.

I was too young and like a timorous little mouse

I shyed away. Weeks later, I found out that he

was on the rebound, but that doesn't justify

anything, does it?

I learnt a precious lesson; one of giving people

chances and that sometimes being too logical

about life and love can be sheer madness!

Years had gone and passed and

his phantom visits me at times, with all those futile

questions of why, what could have been and the zillion

"what ifs". Every procession I witnessed since makes

me feel haunted as the incense chases after me, but

deep inside I know that it all happened for a reason.

Written as my SundayScribblings for this week.