Summer

It is almost mid-August and time moves like a current that brings all kinds of emotions and feelings.

I remembered yesterday what it meant to live the summers when I was a child.

The days were long, the nights were cool, filled with the scent of moistened earth and jasmine. My grandmother was sitting quietly during the day, near the door, on the terrace, knitting, and was now and then turning to us, smiling. Sometimes the heat was unbearable and I stayed inside, watching Greek movies on a black-and-white screen.

My summers were divided between my mother's and my father's villages, but I can no longer divide them in my heart, as it now is an uninterrupted, continuous movement of memories of people, young and old, moments, important moments of being in the present moment of what I now call my life.

These moments shape us, colour our collective consciousness, and create a field around us that determines who we are. I am not only talking about the happy moments, as my summers weren't always what we call joyful, for there were times I missed my mum terribly, and as a young girl, I was supposed to help around the house and get a taste of what it meant to be born a girl in the Greek countryside.

There was this interesting yin-yang reality, where my mother's mother was often strict and demanding (especially with me, the girl), and my father's mother was very attentive and sweet with us. But, as I said, they both represent and are part of the same reality, and I am not picky, as sometimes "tough love" is more productive and as important as tenderness and affection.

We can't always get what we want, but we can work towards creating something or living a life that matters to us.

As the Teachers often mention, first have the chilli, and then savour the chocolate—not the other way around, if you are smart...