batty. I see visions of myself as a bride one last time. Soon. I want to be ready.”
For the time being, she accepted this cryptic reply.
I remained focused and waited.
Some days were far more challenging than others. I calmed my misgivings by
listening to music or taped Science of Mind lessons. Thankfully, eating remained my
source of bodily fuel only and not solace.
Long-distance phone calls were expensive. Very few people made them except on
special occasions or for business purposes. Chatting was kept to a minimum or the
monthly phone bill would skyrocket. Most people keep in touch through letter writing, a
lost art in these days of digital messaging.
Nevertheless, Ion finally did call and we began corresponding weekly by phone,
finding our former ability to converse on diverse subjects and even to laugh again. On
one such call, he mentioned an upcoming business conference at La Costa Resort and
Spa, located halfway between Los Angeles and San Diego, and invited me to join him.
Without skipping a beat, I accepted. Even if it meant I’d need to work all night for a week
to finish work assignments, I would not miss the opportunity to see Ion again.
I knew about La Costa through friends, but had never visited there. It was, even in
1977, a luxury resort. “Ion’s invitation was a surprise, Mother, but not unexpected. I
won’t say anything more until I return.” Mother agreed to watch over the girls and the
dogs and did her best to pump me for more information.
Three days in advance, I packed a suitable wardrobe, my tape recorder, and
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