LENEA AND CRETE -14-

XIV

I am dying to hear how her conversation with Lenea went, but the dinner table is almost like “My Fat Greek Wedding”. Everybody is jolly after an elating day, kids are a joy to have around with their have-to-tells; both Sofia and Michail are visibly happy to have us over. Friendship and trust are in the air. I join in pushing aside my curiosity about Lenea and her daughter.

Michail is a phenomenal man; kind, caring, good politics, an absolute internationalist, cognizant of his deep deep roots in Crete. He is determined to die on this island growing his own thyme and oregano, scooping out his own sea salt off the land, growing his own olives and savoring the blinding sun and emerald waters surrounding his land. He is getting ready to take off with couple of friends on a sail boat to glide through the Greek isles scattered across The Water. I envy him, so much. I feel kind of a pain below my left  nipple thinking of how Bill and I had planned to do something similar to that, which disappeared into thin air in the planning phase. And now, even if I do it myself, he won’t be around to share with even the stories. This is not the right time to think such thoughts, I gently push Bill aside, I have to.

Michail, Sofia, Peter, and Raynard from left to right. Kids are happy in their den.

Michail doesn’t speak much English. In the heat of the political discussions, Sofia ends up doing some translation for me and Raynard. They are such a wonderful couple. Michail, purely Cretan in some ways, Sofia, purely American in others, and yet, they have found such a wonderful connection and created such a strong bond. They are clearly in love after so many years of being together. I admire and adore such couples, who manage to be understanding and caring enough to accept another the way they are and smart and creative enough to preserve and inject more excitement into a relationship over the years. Bringing the shared to the forefront and celebrating the differences, must be the key, I feel.

When I tell them I will go to Chania the following day on my own, they both give me a sour face, not feeling comfortable with my declaration of independence. Sofia is American enough and must have figured me out by now, accepts respectfully. I know how difficult it must feel for them. Guest is an “emanet” from “God” in these parts, like a deposit left into a safe, left into your care to be safe, happy, well cared for. What if something happens to me, they would never forgive themselves. I remember with a smile the trick Teresa, my collaborator in Portugal on child abuse prevention work had played on me. When I wanted to go to the Geres national Park couple of hours north of O Porto, during the couple of days in between two teaching sessions I was responsible for, she had uttered the clearest “No” I had heard in my life. Moreover, she had put an additional teaching session for me on one of my free days to prevent my free spirit to take over! Just in case... I love the women I work with, their tricks, their passions, their matriarchal attitudes, but mostly, the caring and loving female bird in each of them.

Sofia in her office

             Teresa from Portugal in Amsterdam














Sofia and Michail allow me pursue my plan if only I accept to return to their Rethymnon apartment to have dinner together. I submit. When I go to Agora in Chania, I will almost lose my mind finding the exact same fish I am used to eating in Turkey and crave for when I am in Iowa City. Portion size fish that is served with head and all. Even the names are the same; “chipura”, “levrekaki”, etc. I call Michail, Sofia is still in school, Peter is teaching an extra class to her Psychology students. We communicate in Greek. I tell him "I am bringing Chipura for dinner so that Sofia doesn’t bother cooking anything, but do you know what I need to go with it?" Yes you guessed it right, he knew the answer, too. Horta, lots of horta. Michail cracks up, he reassures me horta will be ready when I get there. I can now start my trip back to Rethymnon. 

Indeed, when I get to their apartment, Sofia is sorting horta and boiling water. As we deal with dinner preparations, Michail starts to play an authentic Greek singer’s CD. Deep base voice, even when I don’t understand the lyrics, gives me goose bumps. Michail is translating in the background. He is lost in his state of gratification for being of this land that produced this man of courage, talent, and spirit. I can feel MIchail can never leave Crete, Sofia is right. He is so full of Crete, he IS Crete. At the end of a spectacularly delicious dinner, Michail prepares a surprise gift bag for me with the CD we listened to, a jar of sea salt, and a jar of thyme he prepared. When we are lost in one of the warmest hugs I've received for a long time, Sofia is all but a smile at the doorway.

I know these people will be my friends forever. Who says, one can’t make good friends after a certain age? As long as one believes love is the only thing that grows bigger as it is shared, I think one may continue making as precious friends as those of teenage years. My friends “orchard” is full of examples of that. I know deep in my heart that Sofia and Michail will become two exquisite members of my orchard.

With that peace in my heart, I feel comfortable asking the burning question I have been postponing all evening long. “Will you tell me about your conversation with Lenea?” Her eyes sparkle. “Ah, yes.” She tells me, she told Lenea how sorry I was that we couldn’t accommodate Lenea to come along with us to Chania. She asked Lenea if Sofia could help her in any way. Dear Lenea told her I shouldn’t worry and in fact she was thankful to me. Thankful? I didn’t do a thing, I couldn’t even deliver the citrus she gave me to deliver to her daughter. I almost feel like a thief. What is it that she is thankful for? Sofia catches the questioning expression on my face. A caring expression is on her face, in return.

“Lenea told me, she had to do this for a long time, she just couldn’t. The time you spent with her helped her make the decision. The morning after your visit, she actually took the bus and went to Chania and found her daughter. All is well. And she thanked you for helping her make the decision my dear.” My goodness, I almost feel dizzy. I can feel the good in the universe one more time. When I feel a strong urge toward something, it always turns out to be wehre “Good” is and it has always taken me to a heaven like place in the universe. I feel I am there one more time. Lenea and her daughter are happy and together. Lenea will be able to take her citrus to her daughter anytime she feels like it. This is good, life is good, in fact, life is incredibly beautiful.

I can now leave in peace and head home in Turkey to tell my stories about Crete, but more so about Bill. I need people to help me with the early phase of my grieving now.