"Kalimera." ☀️
The crew greeted us as I boarded the boat, not expecting much from the day. I had a slightly heavy heart, the kind you carry quietly. Nothing dramatic enough to announce. Just enough to feel.
The Aegean swayed like it already knew something I didn't.
We were island hopping: Aegina, Agistri, and Moni.
Back on board, the crew, Stefanos and Mustafa, announced lunch and a quick swim. Everyone got up immediately: sunscreen on, clothes off, ready to dive in like they were born for this.
I stayed seated.
Then Angela, a gentle Scottish girl beside me, turned and asked, "Do you want to go in?"
"I love the sea," I said, "but I'm a terrible swimmer."
She didn't make a big deal out of it.
She just said, "We'll go in together."
Just like that, I was in the Mediterranean.
Open water. Nothingness beneath me. That soft, scary, endless blue. I learned to tread water. I floated like a turtle. An anxious turtle, but still. A turtle.
Afterwards, Stefanos hosed us down on the deck, and we shared wine, a beautiful lunch, and travel stories.
I told Michael and his wife about one of my bucket-list dreams, snorkeling between tectonic plates in Iceland.
They borrowed it from me immediately.
As one should.
At Agistri, Mustafa guided us uphill toward a secluded beach. I picked a tiny red bike and promptly struggled with the gears like I had personally offended the concept of cycling.
Behind me was Karen.
She didn't speed past. She didn't sigh. She didn't make me feel like a problem to solve.
She helped.
And when I couldn't ride properly, she walked beside me.
Later, I asked her, "How are you so kind?"
She told me about a stranger who had once helped her. When she tried to pay him back, he simply told her to pass it on.
"So that's what I'm doing," she said.
No, I am not making this up.
On the way to the beach, I slipped twice, because apparently I was committed to giving the Aegean a full slapstick performance. Mustafa was always a gentle step away, ready to catch me if I lost balance.
At the beach, I let the water hug me again.
And somewhere on the way back, something had shifted.
The wind was soft. The sea glittered. My chest felt lighter. I started humming Sultans of Swing and Sympathy for the Devil under my breath.
For a moment, it felt like Achan was there.
A little too late, I realized Mustafa and Karen had caught up and were listening.
I wasn't embarrassed.
Maybe because the day had already held me in so many little ways.
Kindness was everywhere.
In Angela's "we'll go together."
In Karen walking beside me.
In Mustafa's steady hand.
In strangers who owed me nothing and still chose tenderness.
Being kind is a choice.
Being cruel is one too.
Not a good one, though. :)
