More than anywhere on Patmos, Petra feels both far from home and very Greek island. It’s a scene, set of colors and landscape we just don’t have in the United States – and it is everything I want in a Greek island experience. The incredible shades of blue and crystal clear water have called me since the first time I saw it. Petra has been inspiring, healing, relaxing and when I’m on Patmos alone, it’s my beach of choice. I can read and swim there all day.
Until last year, understandably, Petra was not the beach of choice for the kids. It’s quiet. Pebble beaches can be boring. Fewer people bring their kids. There’s no taverna on the beach (though Ktima Petra is nearby). There are portable toilets instead of the real restrooms at other beaches. The water gets deep quickly and the shallow has slippery rocks. It’s a swim or die kind of place.
Then, one day, a switch flipped for the kids. As Sennen has cared more about his tan, Petra climbed the ranks. It’s absolutely the best beach for laying out and tanning. Ailyn started wearing goggles and becoming interested in what goes on below the surface. Petra has fish, plants and presents interesting opportunities for someone who wants to know what’s happening in the deep.
So, bringing our lunches to Petra and chilling for the day became a desirable thing. And given we needed to be out of the house by 11 so Emmanoula could mercifully clean, heading to Petra earlier than usual became today’s plan.
Yesterday, Sennen changed his mind about an expensive Greek linen shirt he bought. He and Ethan went to return it and came back with matching pink-striped swim shorts of the same value as the shirt. They debuted their matching look today.
For the most part, the day resembled any other beach day – throwing around the volleyball, swimming, eating sandwiches and a crazy amount of fruits and veggies, tanning, the boys wrestling while Ailyn looked on with pity, me reading, etc.
Then, after lunch, and not unexpectedly, Sennen asked for a reprise of last year’s experience learning to drive stick in the Petra dirt parking lot. He had actually wanted to on prior visits, but the rain from the day after we arrived had led to excessive mud in a good portion of the lot and so we couldn’t.
Today, the mud was MOSTLY dry. I say mostly because in the off-season, the majority of what a summer visitor might consider the “parking lot” is really a small lagoon. It dries up in summer, leaving a salt flat stable enough to extend Petra’s dirt parking area – and taken advantage of primarily in August when the tourist population reaches its zenith.
The situation seemed safe enough to give Sennen another driving lesson. And if he got one, I couldn’t deny one to Ethan. And if I couldn’t deny one to Ethan, I couldn’t let it be just the boys and not Ailyn. So everyone got their turn.
I won’t go into the blow-by-blow. You can watch the posted videos if you want. If you feel like a laugh, I recommend you do. The quick summary is all of them got into first gear and successfully drove straight for some length before stopping. Sennen went a little further and got a little more… creative… on his second turn. He now REALLY wants an opportunity to shift into second and I’m not sure that parking lot will support it. Nor am I sure where else on Patmos I’m comfortable with him driving. First gear may be as good as it gets for awhile.
When writing this blog, it’s fun and easy to touch on these peak moments – and others like it. We remember the moments that stand out, the ones that are different. To borrow from Steven Sondheim’s Into The Woods (of all references), “Oh, if life were made of moments, Even now and then a bad one—! But if life were only moments, Then you’d never know you had one.”
Far more of our lives are spent on completely forgettable things. Sometimes things we know we did, like brushing our teeth, making breakfast, walking the dog, driving from one place to another – but that fade into obscurity in our memories because they were neither peak nor nadir. It’s not like a remember the actual act of writing most of these blog posts – but there are a few more emotional ones I do.
One of the joys of having this blog is it helps me – and hopefully the kids in the future – remember a lot of moments I might not otherwise keep so clearly. Maybe within the posts, the flavor of how I perceive things and feel about situations comes through.
One thing that may not fully come through is the profound sense of peace, warmth and fulfillment I get during these five weeks a year with the kids on Patmos.
As the years pass, the anger and hurt over the divorce has mostly abated, but the one part I have never really accepted was losing 50 percent of my time with my children. I understand it wasn’t intended as a punishment and isn’t a reflection of me – but it is the end result and I don’t feel I did anything to deserve it. I miss being there for all the days – all the moments. I’m happiest when I have them because I chose a life of raising a family and it’s what I most want to do. Even in the moments they drive me a little crazy.
So this time of five uninterrupted weeks where I get ALL the moments, ALL the days and we coalesce into our family rhythm as if it’s THE way we live – I love it. Life feels more complete and I’m more at ease.
It’s like having a meal when otherwise, you’re only allowed snacks.
Having this time on Patmos makes it that much more special. We live our best life here – in an environment that’s safe, healthy, meshes with my values, gives them freedom and responsibility, broadens their perspectives and which they have become not only used to, but also a part. We spend our most special time in a most special place.
In this way (and others), our house here is everything I hoped it would be when I bought it.
I will never know exactly what these summer sojourns on Patmos will mean to the kids. How it does or doesn’t change them from whatever other path we might have taken. What they take from it that informs their life decisions, their perceptions or the ripples they create. We can never really understand all the ramifications of our actions – and certainly not the myriad ways we impact our children.
Likewise, until they’re parents and unless they’re divorced and lose time with their kids (which I hope never happens), my kids will never know everything this time each year means to me.
Our time here on Patmos is composed of many moments – most of which we will forget, even with this blog preserving what it can. Yet in another sense, our Patmos time is a moment. It’s a slice of our year that stands out. It contains a wonderful set of feelings for which the events are only a justification, in the end. We don’t need to remember “that time when….” to conjure those feelings, we simply need “In Patmos….” The rest is just details.
