home again

The last time I was on Kefalonia, another of my romantic relationships was in its death throes.

But, isn’t that true of most relationships?  One day you are riding the crest of the wave.  The next, you are shaking sand out of your bathing suit.

That summer was special.  Filled with lazy afternoons on sandy beaches with refreshing dips in the Adriatic.  And the nights.  Plates of tzatziki, feta, and lamb.  Topped off with what should have been a happily ever after.

Even though I know everything turns out well in the end, life is not built on happily ever afters.  There are witches and woods and giants at each turning.

I thought of those days -- almost forty years ago -- as I walked through the streets of Argostoli yesterday.  Just as you can never go home again, you cannot capture the moonbeams of the past in your hand today.

There is little in this sleepy port that reminds me of what once was.  What was a fishing village is now a port for cruise ships.  And with three of the mega-ships in the harbor yesterday, the narrow streets looked as if another wave of northerners had arrived to conquer the island.

Time may not heal everything, but it certainly buries it.  That may be why I returned to Argostoli -- to bury a relationship that long ago was suffering its death rattle.

So, I did.  With a nice plate of tzatziki and grape-leaf wrapped lamb stuffed with feta.  After two weeks of ship food, it was a relief.  In fact, it was the best meal I have had since I left Mexico City. 

When we pulled out of the harbor, I was a bit sorry to say good-bye to Greece once again.  (The year I lived there was one of my best.)  But it is nice to be moving on in my life.  Free and unencumbered.