A Road Trip and a Story

Disclosure: Amtrak hired me to write for their microsite    

It was 1998 - I was 29 and Luisa was 28 - and we drove out to Portland, Oregon to witness our friends, Kelly and Dolores, exchange vows and commit themselves to one another.

Some of you may know Kelly by her lovely comments on this very blog. Hi Kelly!

That road trip was one of the first that Luisa and I took together and so many of the moments we shared have stayed with me all this time.

I was invited to share my story with Amtrak's Ride with Pride blog and that story went live this evening. Here is an excerpt:

In a world that moves ever faster, it’s a luxury to get lost in your thoughts, to lean against a window and watch evergreens blend and blur as they pass. There is a meditative quality in making your way along narrow paths, taking note of dappled sunlight on rock or smudges of color from wildflowers.

You can learn a lot in these moments — about the world around you, about yourself and about the person with whom you’re traveling.

My partner, Luisa, and I discovered this early in our relationship. We had already been together, in Minneapolis, for four years when we received an invitation to our friends’ commitment ceremony in Portland, Oregon. It was 1998 when such celebrations seemed subversive and marriage equality impossible. We looked at the invitation and Luisa said, “Let’s drive. We’ll take our time.”

The story is called "Take Your Time" and you can read the rest of it on the Ride with Pride site.

FEATURED PHOTO CREDIT: DOMINIQS via PHOTOPIN cc

Nostalgia

I'm going to be a little short on words for a couple of days so, last night, I was looking through pictures to try to find images that I love. There are many but this one always makes me stop and stare. This was taken in Melides, Portugal at sunset (obviously). This is one of my absolute favorite places because the days are lazy and the beach is beautiful and the kids can climb the dunes and build sand castles. We spent days on this beach in 2008 after my mother died and I took comfort in the sound of the waves and sandy hugs from the kids and the company of friends who had joined us that trip. This picture was taken in 2011 after we had spent a week there, a week of lying on the beach and jumping into waves and then falling into bed at the end of the day. When we are there, we don't stay until sunset every day but we try to stay at least once.

This is one of my favorite pictures.

The sunset over the ocean and our two kids standing side by side, taking it all in. It could not be more perfect.

Roasted Chestnuts in Portugal

It was November of 1999 and we were in Portugal to celebrate Luisa's 30th birthday. Turning 30 seemed to mark adulthood though, by that time, we had already been together six years and had bought our house.

This was our second trip to Portugal. The first had been in the summer of 1997 so this time felt different because it was colder and the nights came faster.

We spent time in Lisbon before going up north to visit Luisa's father and strolled around Belém which is one of my favorite areas. I had never been there in the evening before and there was something more peaceful about our walk. Maybe it felt that way because it was not the season for tourists but, in my memory, it felt quiet like a secret - something just for us.

Across from the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos and Pastéis de Belém, there is a park filled with fountains and gardens and walking paths. Luisa and I walked along a path and passed a chestnut vendor, an older man dressed in drab grays and browns standing at a cart. Luisa explained that the Portuguese celebrate São Martinho by tasting the wine from the previous year and eating roasted chestnuts.

She asked me if I liked chestnuts and I had to admit that I had never had one. I had grown up singing about chestnuts roasting on an open fire but had never seen or tasted one.

She bought some from the vendor and I watched as he rolled a sheet of newspaper into a cone, folded the bottom over and filled it with warm chestnuts. The steam from the chestnuts, the evening sky, my girlfriend so close I could feel her warmth - it was a cinematic moment and I was the playing the role of the young woman from Kansas in love and so far from home.

We sat on a park bench and Luisa peeled a chestnut and handed it to me. It tasted warm and sweet and buttery. It was beyond what I could have imagined when I sang those Christmas carols years before.

It's been 14 years since that night but every time I peel chestnuts for stuffing or sing about them roasting on an open fire, I remember that cool November night in Belém and the feel of newspaper in my hand and Luisa's shoulder against mine.

This post was written for Just Write. Check out Heather’s post and all the posts of all who joined in this week.