The
passing of Gabriel Garcia Marquez has drawn me to seek out my treasured copy of
One Hundred Years of Solitude, now
yellowed with age. We too have aged, by some 33 years, a third of a century.
My
copy is treasured because it is well travelled, fully seasoned and mailed to me
by Gundi shortly after we had met on the train in Lake
Louise . It found me on assignment in the Libyan
desert amongst a cascade of some thirty missives from Gundi that
could safely be called love letters. So many letters arrived all together, having
been misdirected and lost in transit for several weeks. (I had thought she had
forgotten me).
Gundi’s
inscription on the front pages reads:
“Peter, this book goes out to you filled with fantasy and little yellow
butterflies, enjoy it and remember…” I hadn’t realized the words that followed
in the scrawl… until today, that is, when Gundi pointed them out to me. Fitting, heart-warming words to celebrate our
life together, and the life of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who dared us to fantasize
and charmed us with magic, wonder, and little yellow butterflies.
