We had spent a few days at Abiquiu Lake, and on the morning we left we were talking to the hosts, and they suggested we visit Abiquiu on our way back to Santa Fe. I told them we had been through Abiquiu many times. That was when they asked if we had actually gotten off the highway and went up to the village itself.
I have been through there many times, but I didn't know there was more to see.
After thanking them for their hospitality, we headed on towards town. We followed their directions and found ourselves in the most quaint and wonderful community we had ever been in. It was like nothing we had experienced before, it was magical, it was enchanting.
First stop was the old church, Santo Tomas – el Apostol (est. 1720). After walking around the church, viewing the beautiful gardens and just getting the feel of the history of the church, we walked on off into the rest of the village.
At some point it started to mist, you know, that soft mountain mist, and you could hear thunder rolling through the mountains in the distance. The enchanted feeling was enhanced by the storm that was brewing around us.
We walked by old fallen adobe houses that were infused with history, and made me wonder of all of the years that families had lived in them, children born, old ones passing along, the circle of life was written all over the crumbling adobe walls. Then a humbling walk passed the walls of the wonderful Georgia O'Keeffe's home, with a quiet and respectful peak over the wall into the beautiful world inside.
The village was filled with spirits of the past, time was removed there, the stories lie all around you as you walk, quietly and peacefully through the ages, feeling always humbled by the history and the knowing of all the lives that have come and gone in that wondrous place.
And above all of the beauty, all of the magic, all of the enchantment, there is one thing I will never forget: As I walked along, I heard voices and turned to see. In the back yard of one of the homes, there was an older man, probably close to sixty working in a garden. Over him stood his mother, and as mothers everywhere, she was telling him how to do the gardening as if he were a child. But then, he was, he was her child. They both saw me, and waved and smiled, and then went back to their work. After awhile I heard him say, "I will be back tomorrow mother to do more. I love you." She kissed him, and he walked out of the back yard, and she went back into the house.
The history was still happening, same as it was, same as it is, and I hope, same as it will always be. I was changed by the walk through that wonderful hidden village, and now I know, when driving through Abiquiu, I will hereafter get off the highway.