"I can't do this anymore, help! Daddy, Matheus, help – I can't do it!" Sennen cried out in a moment of exasperation as he struggled to keep his grip the small wheeled suitcase which wanted to roll down the hill faster than a six year-old could walk. I took it and managed to roll two suitcases with one hand, pull another with the other and wear my large backpack all at the same time. Matheus had my small backpack in addition to his large and medium rolling cases with a small backpack perched on top. Going downhill from our house to the main walking street below with more luggage than we could handle and two kids was the biggest challenge. Once we were on even ground, Sennen could push the small suitcase better and managed to get it through town to the edge of the square before wearing out. Ailyn pranced along like the whole thing was a jaunt to the gelateria – which was the path we were taking.
By the time we crossed the street to the port, Matheus and I were sweaty and tired – and those last 100 feet to the passenger waiting area and up to the barrier gate on the dock were the hardest. But we made - second people in line, right at the gate. We had a batter chance to board and check-in quickly than did the hordes of other passengers who would inevitably come.
When we paused, set everything down and took stock – we had about 45 minutes until our ferry arrived. After Matheus and I wiped our brows, Ailyn and I went to the bakery for pies to enjoy for breakfast the next morning, a treat for the kids for their hard work and listening and a bunch of cold waters. Of course the man working the bakery counter thought Ailyn adorable and went into the back to give her a warm, freshly baked cookie.
Ailyn and I took our treasures back to camp at the dock where everyone enjoyed some cold water and a mini-croissant soaked in honey filled with Nutella. Because what else does one have at 11:10 pm while waiting for a ferry? Armed with extra cold waters should our exertions require them, we waited until the boat arrived at about 11:30 – right on time for its scheduled 11:55 departure. While waiting, Sennen struck up a conversation with the 8 year-old British boy standing next to us who enjoyed the details of space, science, boats and machines as much as Sennen. It was only during his last 20 minutes on Patmos that Sennen found his kindred spirit.
However, once the madness of people and vehicles coming from the enormous Blue Star 2 ferry had unloaded and the large trucks being sent from Patmos to Athens were in turn loaded did the port police open the gate from which all hell broke loose. We followed our British friends to the boat, dragging backpacks and suitcases like a team of clydesdales - Matheus and I each with a kid in tow. By the time we made it to the auto garage where the luggage holds are located, we had lost Sennen's new friend. The mob of people swarmed the boat and amid chaotic noise and clatter. Ailyn cried from all the noise and chaos and Sennen maintained his composure, but was jumpy. Matheus and I managed to get our large bags into the luggage holds and get all of us upstairs to the escalators that took us two decks up to reception.
Now with just two backpacks, two kids and no clamor – everyone's heart rates came down. The line to check-in for a cabin was long, but moved quickly. No extra words or pleasantries were exchanged between the desk staff and the arriving passengers. But with everyone's stress coming down and our cabin keycard quickly in hand, we proceeded to find our comfortable room on deck eight.
Once inside, the kids were exuberant to see their nicely made beds awaiting and began to strip without being told. A few sips of water and. quick use of the bathroom and they were in their bunks. Sennen chattered on about Blue Star 2 and how it really is identical to Blue Star and how he was on Blue Star 2 as a baby. But then we felt the boat begin to move. I opened the curtains and we watched as Blue Star 2 pulled away, turned and Patmos began to get smaller.
"Goodbye, Patmos!" I said.
"Goodbye, Patmos…" said everyone else and the moment we all dreaded had come and gone. The note of sadness was particularly noticeable in Matheus' voice. No sane person ever really wants to leave Patmos – except maybe a Patmosian going out to see the world for the first time.
With Patmos now gone, we had the future to turn to – and that meant sleep was important if Wednesday was going to work out for us. So, we all got ready for bed and I sang to the kids. As soon as the lights were out, so were the kids. Matheus and I were on our phones for a little longer and then we too fell asleep until about 6:45 am when I heard a rustling. I opened my eyes, looked up and across the room to see a cute little girl smiling and waving to me. I motioned that she could come join me in my bunk if she wanted. She motioned that I could come join her. It was a draw. So we rested a few minutes and then I opened my eyes and we repeated the same routine. Eventually I mimed that I would eat her. She mimed that she would eat me. Again, a draw. After a few more rounds, the wake-up alarms in our phones went off and we all got up.
"Wait, huh… Oh, we're on a boat. I forgot we were on Blue Star 2. I thought we were back in our Patmos house. I slept so well. But we're on Blue Star 2. Are we almost to Athens?" Sennen asked in a confused state. There's nothing worse than waking up expecting Patmos, only to end feeling like you've left…again…
Once the kids went to the bathroom and got dressed, they made clear they had not forgotten their Greek pies for breakfast and feasted on spanakopita and cream pies from the lower bunks while Matheus and I got everything back in the bags and in order. The shipwide announcement sounded that we were 30 minutes from Athens and to please get ourselves ready and proceed to the disembarkation area. So we took it easy for a little bit before doing just that – sadly, not having enough time for the kids to visit the ship play area that they wanted to revisit from the trip to Patmos.
When the doors were opened to allow passengers down to the garage and luggage holds, the chaos began anew. This time Ailyn was better prepared and rested, so it didn't turn to crying. Matheus and I took turns standing with the kids in the incredibly noisy garage with the constantly blaring alarm of the giant metal ramps being slowly opened and lowered as the ship approached the pier, while the other grabbed baggage and prepared himself for the crazy schlep that was about to ensue.
This time, Matheus insisted on taking the third suitcase that Sennen had trouble managing, so I took both kids and kept them by me as I pulled the bags like a clydesdale over the bumpy metal ramp to the dock and then forward toward the taxi line in the distance. Matheus struggles as one of his suitcases didn't want to roll uphill and tipped repeatedly. Managing three wheeled suitcases was very challenging on an upward incline. Eventually, we all regrouped in the taxi line, Matheus a little haggard and sweaty for the wear.
"That was the worst of it," I told Matheus. "From here, we get this stuff in the taxi and at the hotel, someone will help us unload and get everything to our rooms. Tomorrow, we won't be taking all the luggage at once since we won't all be departing together." And there were the words that made the celebratory accomplishment suddenly less celebratory. We were still coping with parting with Patmos, but to part with Matheus is something even more dreaded.
To speed things along, we were fortunate that the coast guard officer who manages the port taxi line assigned us to a large Mercedes with a kind driver who spoke great English. It took some work, but we got all our bags JUST BARELY into the taxi and undertook an uncomfortable 50 minute ride to the Athens Airport with all of us in the backseat and me crammed up against a backpack and Ailyn on my lap. I prayed a little than nothing would happen to us. We arrived safely at the very nice Sofitel Athens Airport just 50 feet from the main international terminal. Our rooms weren't ready at 9:15 am, but the was nothing a comfortably lobby sofa, an iPad and some snacks couldn't fix. Eventually, as enough people checked out and rooms were turned over, we got our two adjacent rooms. Two tired children wanted to walk around, get lunch and go swimming and that was precisely what happened.
Tomorrow is of course the looming issue. The kids know they are saying goodbye to Matheus in the morning and Sennen has expressed how sad that is. Ailyn just goes over to Matheus and cuddles or plays with him when the subject comes up.
I realized while crammed in the back of the taxi that today is Matheus' last day and it almost made me cry. Tomorrow will be a very hard parting of ways.
"Daddy, what was that crazy man who took over Germany's name?" Sennen asked over gyros two nights ago.
"Hitler."
"Is he famous?
"Well, yes but in a bad way – everyone remembers what a terrible person he is. His name makes everyone think of terrible things."
"But why should someone be famous for doing terrible things? Why wouldn't we want no one to ever know their name? If they're famous, people still remember them. But if someone does bad things, isn't it better if no one remembers them?"
Sennen made an excellent point. So many people who deserve to have their names stricken from the memory of human kind remain on the tips of our tongues whereas so many who do so much good and touch the hearts of those around them remain recognized mainly by those in their immediate orbit – which eventually dies away. No matter how great my Bubbee (grandmother) was to me and all the many people who packed the chapel and flooded out the door at her funeral, the memorial plaque on the wall of our synagogue, her headstone and the stories of her loved ones are how we hang on to a lifetime of goodness. For having done nothing more than found themselves in moments crazed enough to shoot a president, names John Hinckley and John Wilkes Booth live on forever – with the former having his own Wikipedia page despite not actually killing Ronald Reagan.
For all the love, patience, impact and connection Matheus has given, he certainly deserves a Wikipedia page or better. Unfortunately, he'll have to settle for references on this blog, photos, memories and the Wikipedia page of our hearts. And while we expect many visits, calls and moments together in the future, we know he won't just be taking off on a Lufthansa flight to Brazil, but on a journey to the amazing future and life meant for him.
