Meet Me Monday: Father Iulian Boca

Twice a week, the young woman came to the priest. Everything had been prearranged. All she had to do was make sure the priest wasn’t lonely. She learned not to pay attention to the name he called her, always the same name.

Many nights, all the priest wanted to do was hold her and caress her face. He whispered into her long hair about a life together and a child. The young woman learned to ignore things like this too. He wasn’t speaking to her.

She could see the intense passion in his eyes when they lay together. She could see the tortured desperation that covered his face when she stood to leave. It was the same expression that melted as soon as the priest locked eyes on her. No one had ever looked at her that way before, pinned their hopes and happiness on her presence. The only problem, the priest was looking at her, but he was seeing someone else.

~~~

The priest and his young bride strolled the village cobblestone. She had never seen him happier. “Oh, Iulian, it’s perfect. The small village parish like you’ve always wanted … the quaint little church.” She beamed at her young husband.

“Yes, but are you happy here?”

“I’m happy being wherever you are.” She smiled, pulling him along the last few steps of the village road leading to the church. “This is where you were meant to be. I can just feel it.”

The priest stopped and pulled her back to him. “And, right here is where you were meant to be, my sweet, Loredonna.” He kissed her softly, running his hand through her silky raven hair. The sunlight danced across each strand, little prisms of light twisting in her tumbling locks.

There were no words to describe how they felt. There were no words to describe the peace of their new little village home.

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A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered

A million lives, beneath a single sky.....

Though our feet leave different prints,our tongues sound different words, there's a mirrored rhythm in the beating of our hearts. Though born in different worlds, our eyes sharpened 'neath different moons, there's an unspoken truth in the warmth of our touch. We may walk in different strides and dream different dreams, we may speak in different voices, maybe swim in different streams. It's plain to see, when dark night falls, as all the stars shine through, that underneath it all, there's no difference 'tween me and you.

Bitter Honey

Weaving dreams of beguiling gold, a future's price for happiness. What secrets do you, determined, hold? asks the summer wind's soft caress. A guarded name, a hidden hope. Spinning wheels clutching time, grasping straw that falls away, What dreams may come, we soon may find, won't recall at end of day. A cherished life, a memory lost.

From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

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