I looked out at the big trees, the villages, the houses that passed quickly by. The train had very comfortable seats, huge windows, and silence all in silver.
We went up to Jacksonville. Hugging Mary, I tried not to cry. I hugged Juan, I kissed him with love, we promised to meet again soon and I tried not to cry. When I looked out the window I watched them go away, get smaller and smaller, it seemed impossible, it seemed impossible that I was really going away from all of them.
It had been a good trip. But, because of the book, very different from the one planned. To avoid other rumors Papa had stayed at the Finca, Juan Veranes had come in his place and this had comforted me a little. The itinerary had been modified and shortened, also because Mom was in a hurry to return to Venice.
We took the road to El Paso, Texas, then north to Albuquerque and up to Taos, New Mexico to see the pueblo. Papa would have liked to show me the territories of the Indians, but the roads were only paths and with the snow impassable. From Albuquerque to Flagstaff, Arizona and then into the Grand Canyon and then north through Utah to Sun Valley. Papa had to map out the best and most comfortable ways, because of my mother. We would picnic...
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