Arthog, Wales May 19, 2012 7:32 a.m. BST
I entered this day lost — in the pages of a book.
Curiosity drove me on to read another chapter — and another — and another.
“In the pleasure of plenty, my soul lay down.” — was the final sentence of yet one more novel. I closed the book to look at the front jacket — Seventy Times Seven — Salvatore Sapienza — flanked faces chosen by Kerry Mack as this cover’s design: Jesus and two Men who are young and smiling. One of the two has his head cuddling on the other’s shoulder, and the main focus of this cover was the praying profile of another young Man whose hands were, and are, gripping rosary beads with a large, wooden cross. This cover would not entice me to read the pages within, yet, this book was recommended by Henry who is a fellow reader I trust. Obviously, when I changed my reading glasses with my “normal” everyday pair, and saw that the time was two-thirty, Henry was once again a Man to be trusted.
I placed the book I had just finished on the nightstand. I looked over at René sleeping beside me, and, felt impelled to be even closer to this Man with whom I travel amongst people and places in this World.
For the next hour, I snuggled up to René as close as I could get, listening to each breath he took, feeling each beat of my heart. He was aware, in his sleep, that my closeness was tight. My grip grew stronger. I realized that my need for him to be with me, happy, rested, was important for my happiness. I knew I could not sleep holding him. I, too, needed to sleep. I kissed him softly on the cheek, said, “Good Night, Love.” to which he murmured, “Thank you.” My eyes could not leave his sleeping, peaceful face that was half-smiling. I left him in his peace. Even though I was a few inches away from his body, it seemed I was a mile away from the person I loved, yet, if I touched him again, I knew I, myself, would not sleep. With satisfaction, I cuddled with my pillows still hearing the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping Man who has composed the happiness I have found in my Life — our Lives.
For four hours, I slept. My René still sleeps. After I write these pages, I shall go and cuddle — holding him. I can’t, and shan’t, even begin to think of what would have happened if fate hadn’t brought René to me.
Seventy Times Seven is a book concerning the recognition of Fate. The main character, Vito Fortunato, fought fate even when faced with Gabe — his personal René. If the author, Salvatore Sapienza, had kept Vito confused and rejecting, I would be depressed. Yes, I do let characters on pages affect my feelings. Silly? Yes. Happy Endings are what make this World a place in which to Live. If there were no “Happy Endings”, there would be no Life. The confusion we endure, in the realm of Time, is fleeting. (René, in his sleep, just agreed to my silent thought. He rolled over and murmured, Mmm-mm.”)
With a smile on my lips, and a heart full of happiness, I shall place this book, and my glasses, on the nightstand, and, once more hold the Man I Love — René.
