I knew when I said “I do” 19 years ago to my best friend that life would interesting. We’ve had our ups and downs, but I always know I can count on Mike to be involved in what I do.
We spent quite a large portion of the evening “mapping” my Grandmother’s movements in Mexico. He broke out Google Earth and I pointed out places she had named in the journal.
For quite some time, I thought that the Camino Real was a river. Grandma mentioned that her mother, after a severe beating, took off running toward it. Not much else was said. I assumed it to be this massive, rushing body of water that she intended to through herself into. My Great-Grandmother spoke frequently of wishing that she would die or that the Devil would come and take her.
We searched for the Camino Real. We never found it. …
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