One more day in paradise

There is not much wifi here. Little contact with the outside world, and even less of its problems and concerns. But plenty of sunlight. Warm golden Grecian sunlight. And fresh air, to wrap around your limbs and carry your laughter. Or the bright words of welcome that the wonderful people here have given us, welcoming us to their home and homeland.

 

And there’s an ocean like bliss, but perhaps too gentle and agreeable to be an ocean, let’s call it a sea. The Aegean Sea. And it’s right there, textured in blues and wavelets, rinsing off the breeze and sending it through the window, so soft.

Fresh tomatoes, deep red and luscious with their flavor of spring and soil. And of course the cucumbers, grown right next to the tomatoes in the climbing garden that basks around the cottage where my lady and I have spent the last five days. The cucumbers are a dark green, rich with nutrients, and little spines to give them character, with none of that grocery store wax. No bitterness in these peels. They hang like sunbathers above the nest of arugula below.

 

And the feta. Gods of Olympus blessed the feta. Even the European Union had to bow down before the blocks of this cheese, certifying that to merit the name it had to be produced here, in the traditional manner, made of sheep’s milk with a limited option for goat’s milk if you please, because only these animals in only this place can make it properly, can create this perfect savory flavor of brined beauty that mixes so well with the garden produce for our morning meal.

 

And I didn’t even tell you about the red pepper, beyond mere crunch and color, it has a taste so slightly sweet and slightly acidic, so quirky it’s vegetally capricious.

 

But food is done, and one last day of Eden is underway. The birds and bugs are calling their mating songs in the trees, and our favorite garden cat is curled up at my feet. Tomorrow, my friend, tomorrow we’ll have sardines again and you will eat well.

 

And best of all, my lady is here with me. Her eyes on her book, or perusing a menu, or looking out over the sea. Looking back at me. Her presence in the bed beside me, these clean white sheets more than enough as the Mediterranean air warms the evenings and throbs in the morning. Our decadent decisions of what to do today, which beach, or town, or book, or tea.

 

Yes, one more day of Paradise. Then it’s back to Athens, back to earth, back to reality, like it or not.

 

Because it’s too late for paradise. The damage to our lives is already done, and the future has already shifted. Early in the morning, the day after tomorrow, I’ll say goodbye to my lady. Her choice is already made, her choice was already made for her. And there’s nothing I can do about it anymore.

 

But those are thoughts for the future. Not so distant. But today, today is one more day in paradise.