Garden at Sainte-Adresse – Claude Monet (1867)
I had never been one to court women. I was your typical bachelor, simply living out my youth up and down the banks of the Seine- testing the fancies of women and shouting at beggars and drunks. There was no stopping me, I was immune to the law and immune to the chains of fidelity spun by females. Of course, I had some extended runs with a few women, but those usually ended as quick as I wooed them into their undergarments. I can say I was happy dilly dallying through the streets of Paris being a carefree soul. Despite this, at 26 years old I knew nothing of maturity or love. When I met Ana I entered a new age in my life. Ana made me see the light at the end of a tunnel clouded by silly pastimes and a reluctance to be a real man.
I had decided I needed a break from the ruckus of Paris. One Thursday evening I packed my bags and set sail Friday morning to Honfleur- a quaint little city in northern France. I was feeling quite miserable due to an excess of alcohol the evening prior and the rocking of the boat was of no comfort either. As I leaned over the rail to relieve the gargling contents of my stomach, I felt a delicate hand run across my forehead. Almost instantly I felt a flow of relief overcome my body. I straightened myself, wiped my mouth and hesitantly greeted the nymph before me.
“Good evening madam, I’d like to thank you for your kindness,” I said as I extended my hand to her. I felt the urge to apologize for my behavior as the circumstance was not an accurate representation of who I was- maybe it was better she didn’t know.
“Oh, it was no problem. I’ve grown accustomed to these displays.” she replied as she looked at me from under the brim of her boater hat and revealed a soft smile.
Her features struck me as no other woman’s ever had. My palms were sweaty and I almost choked up before I found it in myself to reply to her. For the first time in my life I had felt nervous in the presence of a woman.
“May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” I inquired with a slight bow.
“I’m Ana.” She smiled and walked away.
Ana occupied my mind heavily until the next time we met. I can say it was a situation of circumstance that made me fall in love with her that day. A storm passed over the weekend. A short vacation spent indoors changed directions on a Monday morning when I coincidentally bumped into Ana in a garden at the river bank.
It was a beautiful day, not a cloud above or a speck of humidity in the air. The calm that arrived after the storm coincided so well with the recent happenings of my life. The peacefulness of Honfleur compared to the calamity of Paris exerted a feeling of calm and bliss into my universe. This feeling combined with Ana’s appearance into my life after days of rain made me feel almost in ecstasy. It was a subtle feeling of lightness on my feet, weight off my shoulders, a frenzy in my heart, and a desire to spread my love.
I walked up to Ana from behind, she turned around half stunned and half delighted. As she turned, her hair bounced to fall in front of her gracious features. A whip of her head to the right revealed her eyes to me once more.
“May I?” I asked as I extended my arm to her. Ana linked her left arm through my right and we walked over to the water.
Ana told me about her life, how she grew up without a mother and only a nanny. She was a nurse in a little town outside Versailles and lived a modest life. We sat and conversed back and forth with ease, for hours on end. For the first time, I had viewed a woman as more than an object of my desire. I did not wish for one night- I wished for a weekend in the mountains with her, I wished for hours of sunbathing with her, I wished to bring her breakfast in bed, I wished to raise a child with her. Ana spun the shadows of my mind into vortices of love. I fell down Ana’s precipice of love on that fortuitous Monday morning by the river bank, and never climbed back up.
