Yiayia's Door

 Good morning,

How can it be Friday already? And how can it be September? It's still July, isn't it? I don't know where the days and weeks have gone. I keep working on the house and working on the house, and somehow managing to fit in some writing, some blog stuff, and some other things, but it's so crazy.

I worked on the house on Saturday, and taught Children's Church on Sunday followed by a fellowship meal where I got to hold and cuddle the 1month old baby. That was special. I had needed some baby snuggles.

The rest of this week has been such a mix of things that I'm not sure what happened on what days. I've taken apart bookshelves (these are big, sturdy shelves that were built onto the walls), taken Sheetrock off different parts because we are either taking that part of the wall out, or want to know what is behind the wall. I've helped fix the phone/internet line because it got messed up since it is in the rooms we are working on. I've taken wallpaper off in the hall, practiced the violin, written about 100 words a day, and done some computer stuff.

But there are so many thing I would really like to do.  I'd love to design and create the cover for a story called "Keeping Up Hope" and the cover for this year's Christmas Collection. I need to format those two stories and my other short story "Beyond Comfort." I need to finish creating something on a website, get blog posts done, and get ready for the Five Fall Favorites because that is coming up super quickly! Speaking of which . . .

 I hope you are planning on coming.

Today's story is the one I write on July 2nd at Camp. Enjoy

 

    The sunshine was warm, and I was convinced I could faintly smell the Mediterranean. Everywhere were colors. Happy colors. Bright colors. Colors that spoke of smiles and laughter. Colors that brought back so many happy memories of the summers I spent here in Greece with my yiayia and my parents. I hadn’t been back in five years.
    Life changes in five years. At times it seems to stay the same. Same job, same friends, same places to shop. But then the changes come. Some are good. Some are bitter-sweet. And others leave you with an ache in your heart and tears in your eyes. I’d experienced all those and more in the space of five years.
    I’d gotten married to the boy-next-door; Patrick had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. Every summer when I stayed with Yiayia, I would write him letters. He only answered one or two, but I kept them. After we’d been married for a year we’d moved from our hometown to the suburbs of a larger city for Patrick’s work. That was bitter-sweet. I love traveling, seeing new places, meeting new friends, but it was hard to leave our parents, our first home, our church and friends.
    Last year was the hard year. My mama died. It was all quite sudden. I had time to tell her goodbye and to tell her about the baby that was coming. Then she was gone. The ache hasn’t completely gone and the tears still come though not as often now that little Charis, my mother’s namesake is here.
    But here I was back in Greece again. I walked down the familiar streets drinking in the sights, the colors, the smells. The Lord was good to allow me to come back with my husband and daughter.
    “Cilla.” Patrick’s voice brought my mind back from its wanderings. “Are you sure your grandma will be okay with us just showing up?”
    I laughed. “Okay? She’ll be more than okay. Yiayia will be ready to have a party. Aunt Sophia said she was bringing the rest of the family over tomorrow to see Yiayia, but wasn’t going to tell them we were here.” I gave a little bounce as I walked. I don’t care if I was a married woman with a baby. I was excited.
    “Is Charis still sleeping?”
    Patrick chuckled. “Nope. She’s as wide awake as you are.”
    As though to prove him right, Charis popped her little head up from her daddy’s shoulder and smiled her toothless smile that always melts my heart.
    Turning a corner, I caught my breath. There. Just ahead. We were almost at Yiayia’s. I felt tears rise in my eyes.
    In front of us was a stairway leading up the hill to the courtyards behind the houses. The house walls on either side were painted two shades of blue. I smiled. Ever and anon the walls would be repainted. Some summer they would be the same colors, sometimes different. Hanging on the walls were flower pots, each one painted a different bright color. And just to the left was Yiayia’s door.
    My hand shook as I knocked.
    I heard footsteps and then the door opened.
    “Yiayia!”
    The white haired woman stared for a moment and then held out her arms to me as a torrent of Greek words tumbled from her lips falling like balm into my heart.
    “Yiayia,” I said, smiling through the tears which streamed down my face, “I brought my Patrick, and--” I turned and took my little daughter from my husband. “I brought your great-granddaughter.”
    “The Lord has been good to me,” Yiayia said, clasping her hands together. “So very good. Come inside and you will eat, and I will hold my great-granddaughter. Tomorrow we will invite the family and then the neighbors. A time of celebration has come.”

Are you planning on attending the Five Fall Favorites?

How was your week?

Which of my new stories are you most excited to read?