So, in spite of being married and having a young son, I still looked at the musicians to see who was “cute,” perhaps secretly hoping for a Prince Charming to sweep me away. I did not think about fate or leaving my husband.
On a star-filled night during my first year at music camp, as I sat by the fire watching a Flamenco performance, I thought to myself, for no particular reason, “There’s only one good looking man among them all.” Freddie Mejia, the one some people thought looked like a pirate, played Flamenco guitar to melt your heart. His black curly hair bushed out long to the shoulders of his Renaissance style, fuchsia shirt. Its patterned fabric with the puffy sleeves was covered by a vest that reminded me of an Oriental rug, giving him an exotic Gypsy look. Freddie’s deep brown eyes concentrated on his guitar while his flying right-hand fingers made impossibly beautiful melodies, with chords formed by his long, agile left-hand fingers. His smile lit the world. I only noticed him, that first year, a passing thought that flew out into the night with the breeze.
© 2022. Marianna Mejia