Communication

Location

I look beyond the balcony

And see the stars illuminate the Aegean Sea.

The gentle wind ruffles Ginny’s golden locks

And the magenta bougainvilleas above my head shake slightly.

 

On my right, Taso tells his nephew to

“Δώσε μου το παστίτσιο και το τζατζίκι.”

I do not understand,

But suddenly a bowl of pastitsio and tzatziki is placed in my hands

And I pass it down to Taso.

 

A few seats over

Georgios asks me

“How are you liking Andros?”

I smile and repeat that I feel at home with these people

And that I have dreamed of traveling all my life.

 

Across from me

Titsiana asks her 3-year-old daughter

“Vuoi un po 'd'acqua?”

I understand the ending,

because “water” in Italian is similar

to “water” in my language, Portuguese.

 

I find myself in a whirlwind of culture

A summer night’s breeze of language.

One minute we are reminiscing in Greek,

And the next laughing in English,

Unable to communicate fluently

But smooth transitions nonetheless.

We sit in white plastic chairs at

Three rectangular tables newly connected,

Various sizes of cups and colorfully patterned plates

Scattered

Throughout the table,

Like the guests at dinner that night.

I sit back for a second

And stare at these people,

Realizing how small the world can actually be

And how differences can be forgotten

Simply by laughing,

By enjoying,

By loving.

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