After Three Pandemic Years

I meet up with my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson...in Greece!

Greece, Summer 2022. Episode 1, of many to be posted whenever I think about it. Which no doubt will be often. (there will be recipes, too!).

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It had been nearly 3 years since I had seen my daughter, Leah, son-in-law Jonathan, and my now 8 year old grandson, Mondo. Three pandemic years during which I truly didn’t know if I would survive and be healthy; or if they would. In other words, would we ever see each other, be together, again? I’m not going to complain because the whole world was suffering, most far worse than myself. But it was still difficult.

I missed my little family so much: they live in Berkeley, California, and each time I was on the verge of buying an air ticket, a wave of Covid beat me to it: at Mondo’s school, Leah’s work, the community at large. We vaccinated, social distanced, wore masks pretty much always. But still. Big travel was risky. Of course I didn’t want to get sick, but worse was the thought I might bring Covid to them from my travels and flight.

So when my daughter emailed: “I’ve got a sabbatical coming up, will be renting a house in Greece, please come” I was joyously overwhelmed by the thought. And, while the truth is I would have gone anywhere to see them: I would have crawled in fact, to the biggest horrific nasty place imaginable, just to be with them. Instead we were meeting up in one of the loveliest places on earth: Greece, specifically unspoilt, beautiful little area on a little bay in Greece’s Peloponnese, about halfway between Korinth and Naplio.

The little family flew Air Canada, an airline with a mask mandate. I didn’t have that a mask mandated option, but after I snapped up one of EasyJet’s last available flights, I invested in a few new super efficient face masks. And, since air travel had been so iffy earlier in the summer—I held my breath and conjured up all of my belief systems, hoping against hope that the flight would not be cancelled.

The Gods and Goddesses looked upon me benignly it seemed: each time I checked on the run-to departure, the flight was go go go.

After I tested to be sure I was Covid negative, I packed my green and white polkadot bag with the most important thing I could think of bringing them: zucchini I had grown in our garden. My garden had been a source of great comfort and solace, as well as nutrition, throughout the pandemic; as with all good things, I wanted to share it with them.

So tender, so delicate, so delicious. I know I know, they have zucchini in Greece (in Greek, kolokytháki), but I wanted them to taste MINE. I felt that I had grown it just for them.

Since so much luggage was being lost by airlines and airports, I didn’t check in a suitcase—I had room in my bag for just three zukes. Thankfully, it was enough. They look nice, don’t they?

At Gatwick, in my mask, with my three zucchini and my green polkadot handbag..

And then…I was on my way. We lifted off, and three hours or so later, I looked out the window and saw the (cliche but true: sparkling, blue) Mediterranean, and realized that whenever I see/feel the Mediterranean, I feel at home.

As I said, I would have met them anywhere. But gazing at the water below, I felt it was pretty fantastic that they had rented a little spot of paradise, in a place (Greece, so close to my heart), and invited Mama and YaYa (thats me! Leah’s mama, and Mondo’s YaYa). And, for the first time since the pandemic began, I felt happy.