Santorini 5-23-23

My eyes are downcast, searching for appropriate footfalls. One wrong step and a twisted ankle, a tumble down or even up the stairs, and I’d be done for. A broken ankle is not the type of memory I’d like to return with on my vacation from Santorini. The teeny, narrow, winding, uneven streets, definitely a way of the past, do not make for an easy morning stroll. Despite wanting to see everything, take in the spectacular view of the citied cliff-side with its blue covered domed roofs and every colored doors and window shutters, I’m staring at the grey and white stone of the road, sending up silent prayers for agility and strength.

When I come to a fork in my road of the stone steps I’ve been walking up, I inevitably lift my sight from my unpredictable steps knowing I’ll have to make a decision about what path to take next. Expecting to see a quaint building or touristy shop in front of me, instead I’m met with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Can a set of eyes look like a mountain-side forest of pine, moody and dark after a spring rain? These green eyes slice right through me like a blade against butter, their owner the most pleasing man I’ve seen my entire trip. These eyes have hypnotized me and my foot has stopped mid-step. 

He’s seen me too and we both just stare at one another as he walks down and I walk up. I can’t look away. I want him to stop or say something, anything so I can keep staring at his green eyes. But if he takes one more step he’ll pass me by and disappear down into the crowds of tourists. I silently scream for this moment to freeze, and when I’m about to give up hope and continue up the steps and around the corner I hear him say, “Good Morning.” 

I about melt right there in the street. Relief and embarrassment flood my cheeks. I was blatantly staring him down. I get about five more seconds to immerse myself in those green eyes. I realize I’ve stopped dead in the middle of the path, and I feel the heat of the tourists around me wanting me to move on. Peer pressure makes me step up the final stair, but I turn back without taking my eyes away from his, suddenly an expert tight-rope walker unafraid of missing a step and falling to my death. “Good Morning,” I answer as the crowd swallows him up and I never see him again.