Leaving Greece: A Goodbye Long Awaited

When I rounded the corner in Mrs. Steen's silver Subaru that smelled of dogs and horses, the twilight had barely begun to paint the placid water of the Ionian sea the most pastel of pinks and purples. The rolling mountains of Albania were a navy silhouette on the horizon, and the 20-foot tall cross atop the old fort, dating back to the 1500's, was still casting its Christmas light glow onto the ancient foundations of the fort and the water of its moat.

Sylvia dropped me off at the airport and saw me cross through security safely before she turned away and walked back towards her car. This is the last time that I will probably ever see her--her arthritic hands, her salt and pepper hair, her bottle bottom glasses, her tanned skin worn by work, and a face that bore many deep wrinkles, which are nothing more than graceful skeletons of the smiles that she has shared with the animals and special people in her lifetime.

I boarded the plane quietly, not wishing to disturb the morning. It hurled its metal body into the sky, nearly missing the little white monastery that had been my homeland for the past two months. We rose into the air, and Corfu became a green and golden nugget in the pink and blue water. I fancied that I could reach down and pluck it up from the matrix and put it in my pocket to revisit it anytime I want.

I looked down as the island became nothing more than the green shape that I had seen on the maps prior to my trip. Wisps of mist hung over the waves and intertwined themselves into the trees and caves on the nameless beaches below. It was a scene that any photographer could have captured in all its beauty, but my heart took a snap shot of it in that morning, and I condensed all of the memories from this island--the struggles, the joys, the triumphs, the respect, the passions--into my mind's photograph.

To this day, there are still sand and stones in my purse from the beaches, and the taste of Greek honey and buttery filo still comes to mind from time to time. The island is still with me even though I didn't pluck it from its still waters to keep it as my own.

I waved goodbye as the morning sea mist swallowed Corfu in the wake of the plane, and I turned my eyes forward to the morning sun and its golden kingdom. We skimmed across the gilded heavens while Robert Frost's bittersweet prose, "Nothing gold can stay" came to my mind as we sped forward to the morning. But I knew and still know that Greece's greenest island will stay in my mind forever.