Once upon a time.....
It is approaching a decade since I chronicled the remarkable course of my life with Raul. Those of you who followed my story will remember the tender details, the shattering betrayals, the shifting loyalties. You will remember, too, my brief tryst with his cousin Ramon, whom I shamelessly stole from my good friend, the saucy Mari.
So much time has passed. So much has happened.
Mari achieved the ultimate revenge by finding and wedding her soulmate; erstwhile, compassionate and (necessarily) tolerant Georg. Shortly after her betrothal, Ramon sought sanctuary in a monastery, where he remains to this day, silent but for the occasional cry of "Maria! Maria!"
My name is not "Maria". Ramon is no longer of interest. Let him be, we are done with him.
The burning passion between Raul and I eventually sputtered to a low flame, and Raul returned to Spain to tend to the family business of raising bulls for the rings. I remained behind, resuming my life of respectability. Over the years we have periodically re-united in Spain. More often recently, as the venerable family tradition of bull-breeding has been virtually destroyed by Raul's nephew, Rodrigo.
Rodrigo.....the child of Raul's sainted siser, Rosario, who died in childbirth without revealing the paternity of the robust baby who survived her. Rodrigo, whose russet locks tumble in a brilliant cascade upon his taut shoulders, and whose eyes are the clear blue of a mountain lake. Rodrigo, who from earliest childhood eschewed the bullfighting business, instead showing a canny affinity for the massive beasts who should have been destined for a violent death in the corrida. Bulls under Rodrigo's care show no appetite for fighting, becoming docile as pets under his calm tutelage. The horses ridden by the picadores demonstrate an even greater rapport with him, and he steadfastly refuses to allow them into the ring. The most incorrigible steeds bow to Rodrigo and there are whisperings throughout the community about his mystical relationship with them.
Yes, visits to Spain have been much more interesting since Rodrigo has reached maturity.
It is late now, and these musings are tiring me. There will be more later. Now, I must rest.
