She had a name actually, I just didn’t tell anyone.
There’s a restaurant that sits up on a hill in Big Sur, California, that has a large patio with an expansive view of the sea. The afternoon sun scatters sparkly diamonds of golden light across endless waves of the bluest blue. Back in the day the prices of the food were too expensive for me to afford, so when I was a teenager my girlfriend and I used to sneak sandwiches and drinks out on to that big patio and gaze for hours out to the curved horizon. The name of the restaurant is the Spanish word for window, a portal through which the world seems a brighter, calmer, more peaceful place to be.
Her name was Ventana.