Member-only story
Las Hadas Fairytale
Do dreams come true?
It’s 1984, the year of our first wedding anniversary. We are off to sunny Mexico. I’m all of twenty-seven, full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the world. Laura is a mere twenty-two, strong, happy, fun-loving, and incredibly beautiful.
The world is our oyster, lying in wait like a red, magic carpet begging to swoop us away.
Our dear friends, Nora and Tim, have accompanied us to the stunningly beautiful Mexican resort Las Hadas, a cross between vivid white Moorish Greek architecture and a hillside Tuscany village.
Las Hadas oozes romance from its stucco pores. Her cobblestone paths tickle our feet with warmth. She cradles us with velvet arms and won’t let go.
We are happy. We are in love.
Our bare feet relish the oceanside room’s cool marble floor; our eyes tear from the sheer beauty of the distant bay.
Standing on the veranda, we can hear the ocean’s gentle song as she laps softly ashore. A lone sailboat rests at anchor.
We make love, swim, bathe in the sun’s warmth, and make love again. Life is good.
