I Wanna Take You There....
Years ago, before the fateful marriage to the WAS-band at a much too young age, I was foot-loose and fancy free with a 35 pound backpack strapped to my back walking through Europe for an entire summer and fall. My hair was huge and I actually had a giant can of Aqua Net in my backpack. It was 1984.
Yes it was all new, cultured and exciting -Rome, the Austrian Alps, trendy outdoor Paris cafes, German beer-swigging Octoberfests, cute boys giving us attention, buying us wine, roses and brick oven pizzas in made into heart shapes, sleeping on the beach in Monaco's French Riviera, Switzerland castles, the Louvre... but the moment I stepped (begged) my way onto that Athens car ferry to Santorini Island, Greece, while squatting between the cars in sweltering heat for a negotiated 50 cents, little did I know what a life changing experience was ahead of me.
Growing up in the Midwest with all the excitement of hot dish dinners and sub-zero winters, I had always dreamed of going to the sea. I had visited a few grungy beaches during the spring break of 1982 that hardly counted as more than a cigarette butt infested puking ground for us young inexperienced drinkers of 3.2 beer and cheap wine coolers.
Needless to say, the moment our swaying little boat docked in the Santorini marina I was in awe. Flopping into the rear bed of a beat up pickup truck we bounced our way to the other side of the island to stay at a hostel which fit our budget at $7 a night complete with breakfast and a cold shower. Up the hills, past rambling donkeys, we arrived at the crest and stopped to unload a few other disheveled backpackers.Looking down I got a peek at the view, I knew I needed to see more.
After an authentic Greek meal with friends, I was aching to escape alone. I had never sought out a moment alone in all my life, but this time it was pressing. Slipping off the patio leaving my friends laughing and chatting behind, I left to village streets so very narrow I could stretch my arms to my sides and touch a storefront with each hand. All boasting thick fairytale arched wooden doors in bright azure blue. With my worn sandals slapping against the pavers, the end of a street announced the beginning of a hillside that I will never forget.
Glancing down not only took my breath away - it took my breath away for the first time in my life. We always remembers our firsts. You see, teenagers don't see beauty in things as "adults" do until they are truly adults. Surprising myself, I felt the tears well up in my eyes. I knew I was an adult at 18 that very second. Forget voting, or losing ones virginity - this was my moment.
The pristine white and sky-blue dome top buildings nestled into a grassy hillside overlooking the boat-lit harbor, a stunning contrast to the aqua sea we just arrived by. Presses of land as other islands far off in the distance dotted the water like floating painters pallets of deep greens and browns.I could hardly tell where the sky ended and the water began, a true continuance of liquid blue and celestial sky.
Villa Imerovigli sat with its two large verandas at the edge of the cliff - 300m above the sea at the foot of the village square along many a footpath of stairs to negotiate ancient wine cellars and shops. A true Mediterranean atmosphere with typical Santorini “Yposkafa” dwellings. I knew I had to come back with someone -but in love.
Now, almost three decades later, I still hold that image in my heart. Always wanting to share it with someone someday, I know now I have met that person.
To pick up where I left off that warm August night could only be made perfect with him on that hillside next to me.
Maybe it's power is derived by its exclusivity and maybe that's why it still stirs me the way it does. I had something with that moment that I had never had with anyone one else. Sharing it with him would mean that I have something with him that I have with no one else.
Out of six billion people on the planet I choose him for me, my life - and no one else.
No one else gets this, gets us in our specific, sacred, emotional, spiritual, physically intimate way.The mingling of our souls, belongs to us. When it is shared with others it is no longer exclusively ours and it's power is decreased. That's why I am so strong in the fight for our private moments alone. The power of our coming together is rooted in our choice to give to each other- and no one else in this particular way. I never want to screw that up or take him for granted.
One day I will return with him there. For a couple can quickly forget their own story - the mystery of what brought them together. I want to remember ours always.
I dream to be on that hillside with a cluster of balloons between us. Each one a symbol representing our failed marriages, regrets, family amputations that sear to the soul, divorce and child guilt, stupid choices, people we never said goodbye to before it was too late, the parent we never knew before she was taken, selfish decisions that affected lives -all as as our picture of starting over together.
I want our first act to be letting those balloons go on that very same hillside. And in this connection there is always the chance that we will find the reason to risk committed love again....
