along the river away from Leon

Its raining . The most I have seen in weeks. I collect my things from the hostal that Carolone shared for two short and long nights, and a little dejected ride for an hour south of Leon before crawling into my tent.  The weather has thwarted me again, just as an unprecendented cold snap sabotaged my ideal reunion with Caroline.  In my eagerness to see her, I didn’t plan enough what we should do or where. Yet we made the most of it.  Caroline looked beautiful stepping of the train in Leon in a summer dress, tilt head, and smile. and even more beautiful
in shoulder high wheat fields. Balcony doors open wide onto the street below, so that the morning comes into the room, while i make coffee on the small stove, looking over the rooves to the cathedral. Red wine and cheese, and the person who appreciates them most, is all I need to make me happy. Intermittent sun though the window onto our long naps. Bad food made good by a hard days walk over the highest point of the caminho de santiago. touches under the table of great vegetarian meal, in a cosy house that looked out the hills, that later in the night, would be dusted with fresh snow. Circling Leon a dozen times, just talking and drinking, and forgetting to eat anything but the small dishes served with the wine. Finding the last corner of the city that still catches the light. It was great.
but miscommunication and poor planning, and expectations too. Wanting things to be perfect, and the dissappointment when they are rained on.  so that When Caroline leaves she seems a little sadder than when she arrived, and its not to do with the weather, its because of me, and I don’t know exactly what it is. But its easier to blame the weather than rummage through my pile of flaws to find the one that has upset her.
And so alone in the cold rain, I feel okay, because I can’t do her harm, and have the warmth of the great moments we did have.