Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Chasing Windmills in Mykonos, Greece

Sailing deeper into the Aegean, we head back to Greece to Mykonos Island, chasing windmills by the dazzling sea.
My girls play on the little sandy beach while I sip on a cold bottle from the cooler and chat up a one-legged priest about swimming to Delos, the birthplace of Apollo, some 40 km away.
The city is painted in striking white with blue or red trim and there are bells that ring at noon calling city folk to prayer.
In the distant horizon, the islands are said to be giants crushed into the sea by Hercules on one of his 12 labors.
The streets are purposefully crisscrossed to confuse invading pirates, and we rummage small shops taking turns on daddy’s shoulders.
There are busted up windmills on the hills, I put the girls down and race up stairs to find them, charge them, sack them, and raise my own flag… but they are abandoned and alone.
Then at last... what is this air I breathe but little wings that carry me onward.
Rebekah is so funny, I burry her in sand and watch Kinu jogging away after a scrambling crab.
Little legs tired from the sun and the surf, I carry both up the final hill. Not much of a charge, but what’s a father to do?
I close my eyes. This is it. This is my life as a dream.

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