The house was lit with candles, each one sending its own image onto the wall behind it. The resulting shadows were not unlike a paper doll—--hands joining hands in a long chain, endless but for the inevitable point where the link had to be cut in order to ensure its own creation.
Maria led me down a narrow hallway until we came to a small room with a dark table. A large, weathered man rose and embraced me. He had a familiar air. “My friend, you are welcome here. I am Pedro. You have met Maria.”
Another man, this one smaller, took my hands. I could not but notice that his hands, while small, were quite strong. He, too, had a warm, friendly air that nevertheless seemed faintly infused with seriousness. “I am Miguel. What may we call you?”
“I am Joseph,” I said, warmed by the enthusiasm of both men.
“Welcome to our house, Joseph,” he replied with a smile and a welcoming hand on my shoulder. “We enjoy the tales of travelers. I hope you will share some of yours before you must depart.” He gestured to the small table. “Will you join us for a glass of wine?”
I found myself drawn to them all immediately, and any trepidation I had was forgotten. The small table was intimate, and we were quickly absorbed into the peace brought by wine.
“Was it Galileo who said, ‘Wine is light in a bottle’?” I asked.
Pedro exchanged a curious look with his siblings. “Indeed, it is so,” he responded. “And since you have raised it, which of those two elements do you prefer?”
“When I was young,” I responded, “I needed wine to open my eyes. Now that I am old, I find I need light.”
All three of my dinner companions laughed approvingly.
Maria lifted her glass. “May your path always be clear.”