By Robert Bradley
To have come to this season, part II.
They are stringing the lights for Christmas around Parque Calderon. The blue CUENCA sign across from the Cathedral is a huge hit already. Teens are grouping together in sizes that stretch beyond the limit of a selfie, so like a paddling of ducks, they wander back and forth in ever-changing conventions while smartphones are imprinting everything.
Couples chat and gaze about under the inviting lights around the fountain. A distracted man is getting his shoes shined, a brood of children are excitedly weighing which flavor of ice cream is best while the sweetest most luminous blue ever smooths a sky that sparkles with lights shining along Gran Columbia.
But it is a different shade of blue that shadows me, this is also the season of remembrance.
This is a year best described as being momentous.
I lost a dream locked deep in my heart while I welcomed another member of the Bradley clan into a world of danger and opportunity. Crisis.
I made new and lasting friendships steeped in casual conversation, fermented in lively debate, then finely distilled into a hue of trust more earthy than golden, likely to age well and sweeten right to the end.
I began writing this column for CuencaHighLife, a decision that molds my week.
I have a contract to report my discoveries to you in whatever medium I can, be it picture or pen — and it gives me great pleasure to do so.
I love welcoming you to sit with me as I wander deep into dreams, illustrating what I have learned and showing you photos of what wondrous events I saw.
I have a lot to be thankful for this year. The greatest gift being to have come to Cuenca. And you, the readers.
We have all been through a lot this year but we have gone through it together and that makes all the difference.