The church that bound us and found us!
We arrived at the islands home for waifs and strays, early this morning. The sun was already climbing the cloudless sky as I prepared myself to surprise my very dear friend and indeed, an enormous animal lover.
Well surprise her I did, just as she was about to serve some Italian customers. I shall not tell you what she said, as she spoke in rushed Greek, but I could tell she was pleased to see me and not forgetting, my kind and unassuming husband.
After a few tears were shed, over a cup of sweet tea, we made plans to meet at her home for waifs and strays. Now let me just tell you a little, about how we met.
It was nine summers ago, when we came to the island on our honeymoon. We stayed where we always stay, in that simple little room overlooking the Ionian Sea. Whilst travelling to another village, I noticed the beautiful Greek Church in the far distance.
‘Turn around!’ I said to my newly kind and unassuming husband, ‘I have a strange feeling about that church!’
At that time, my newly kind and unassuming husband didn’t know of my many strange and often bizarre ways. I was careful not to show him that I often get that feeling about things.
Without question, he turned the car around and we drove the few miles over a dusty dirt track until we came to the church. It is late in the day now, and what a day it’s been, so I shall shorten the rather lengthy version. The one I have told to many, many people.
Well, there was the oddest man standing outside the church, as if he was waiting for our arrival.
‘I’ve seen him before,’ I whispered to my newly kind and unassuming husband, and on closer inspection, I was positive that he was the man I had seen earlier that morning standing beside a lamppost in the middle of no-where. And I remember thinking how very odd that was. Now this is true, believe me!
He had a key in his hand and greeted us with a huge smile just as if he had met us before. A gush of Greek words poured from his mouth, which we didn’t understand but he kept nodding his head as he opened up the church and showed us around the most ornate building I have ever seen. All the while I kept watching him but I could tell he was purposefully avoiding my eyes.
Well this strange little man, in very poor english invited us to a dance on the square that evening. So later that day, we arrived at the square to find it deserted. As we strolled around the church grounds we noticed the quaintest of cafes, just metres away. It was old, very old, with a wooden veranda wrapped around it. Now on the veranda were small tables covered with fresh white cloths which many elderly men were sitting at.
‘Let’s go and see if they know anything about a dance,’ I said to my rather confused and newly kind and unassuming husband. And this we did.
As we entered the very old and yet very quaint cafe, we were greeted by a woman who threw both myself and my newly kind and unassuming husband off guard. She looked so much like me, it was quite unnerving. And instantly, there was an enormous emotional bond between us, as if we had known each other forever but we still hadn’t spoken to each other.
Well let me just say rather quickly, she made us some fresh orange juice and sat with us at a table inside the cafe, which we discovered was hers. It soon came to light, that we had lived almost parallel lives but in two separate countries, from birth. Not only did we look alike, but we were similar in almost all ways. She is not as crazy as I am and she is also far nicer, but apart from that we are like two peas in a pod. And we both had a home for waifs and strays. And then something even stranger happened. Over her shoulder, I saw a familiar man standing in the cafe doorway. It was the same man who showed us the church and invited us to the dance on the square that evening, the one that didn’t exist.
I shall continue this story tomorrow, from our island in the sun. It is later that you think, so I’ll pop the light off, lay down, and let the sound of the sea lull me to sleep.