Για Σενα

The following thoughts are dedicated to a person that has been in my life since that cool evening on October 24, l987 where i mistakenly took the same bus that he too had mistakenly taken that same evening. When our eyes crossed as we looked at each other through our reflection in the dirty window on that bus, something more than just a spark flickered from both of us. Now, almost 18 years later, our roads have separated. Although if i rationally think about it, i know i have made the correct decision to move ahead in my life, my heart doesn't always agree and i hope that writing something will make it hurt less. Though English is my native tongue, I've decided to write this in Greek because he and i always talk in Greek and it is the only language where i can express my true feelings towards him and towards myself for him..


Αποφασισα να σου γραψω αυτο τωρα γιατι ποτε δεν θα το δεις...
ποτε δεν θα το διαβασεις...
ποτε δεν θα το καταλαβαινες..
ποτε δεν θα με καταλαβεις..

Πανε τοσους μηνες απο τοτε που εφυγες..
αλλος τοσος καιρος που αν και μαζι..
χωρια ζουσαμε...
ο καθενας απο εμας χαμενος στον εαυτο του..
στο θυμο του..
στην συγχυση του.

Καποτε, καθε φορα που σε κοιτουσα στα ματια
τον εαυτο μου εβλεπα μεσα σε αυτα..
και εσυ στα δικα μου
τον ιδιο σου εαυτο.

Τωρα βλεπω να με κοιτας..
και να αναρωτιεσαι σιωπηλα
αν υπαρχει ακομη κατι μεσα στα δικα μου?
κατι που να δειχνει..
κατι που να λεει..
κατι αλλο απλα
αλλα να ειναι μονο για σενα?

Δεν αφηνω τον εαυτο μου να λυγισει..
να δειξω τον πονο που περνω..
αλλα καθε φορα που σου γυριζω την πλατη..
ενω εσυ εχεις δει το πλατυ χαμογελο στα χειλη μου..
τα δακρυα πεφτουνε σιγα σιγα απο τα ματια μου
και αλλα τοσα τρεχουνε ασταματητα μεσα μου..

Δεν υπαρχει μερα που να μη σε σκεφτομαι..
δεν υπαρχει γωνια στο σπιτι να μη σε βλεπω..
υπαρχεις παντου και λειπει η παρουσια σου..
η απουσια σου ειναι φανερη...
παντου.

Βλεποντας τα ματια τον παιδιων μας
ειναι σαν να εισαι μπροστα μου παντα
και μου λειπεις..
δεν προκειται αυτο ποτε να τελειωσει...
τιποτα δεν βοηθαει να σε σκεφτομαι λιγοτερο..
τιποτα δεν βοηθαει να μου απαλυνει τον πονο..
να μου λειπεις λιγοτερα...
να σε σκεφτομαι λιγοτερο..
να σε αγαπω λιγοτερα
για να γινουνε ολα τοσο πολυ πιο ευκολα.

Λυπαμαι που καπου στο δρομο μας...
καπου μεσα στα δυσκολα της ζωης..
στις δυσκολιες που φερνει το περασμα του χρονου..
χαθηκαμε εμεις οι δυο..
που το χερι που απλωσαμε για βοηθεια
ποτε δεν το ειδε ο αλλος..
και ετσι μονοι μας..
εσυ και εγω..
χαθηκαμε
λιγο λιγο καθε μερα..
μεχρι που δεν γινοτανε να δει ο ενας τον αλλον πια..
και ας ημουνα εγω μπροστα σου..
και ας ησουνα εσυ μπροστα μου..

Αποφασισα να σε αγαπω το ιδιο ομως..
να μη προσπαθω να σε αγαπω λιγοτερο..
να μη προσπαθω να σε ξεχασω..
να μη προσπαθω να σε κακολογω αλλο πια στον εαυτο μου..
σε αγαπησα ολοκληρωτικα...
εγωιστικα...
απολυτα...
σε ολα τα ακρα φτασαμε και οι δυο..
εγω με σενα..
και εσυ με μενα...
αλλες φορες με αγαπη
αλλες φορες με μισος
αλλα ητανε ολα πραγματικα αισθηματα..
αληθινα...
θα μεινω με αυτη την αναμνηση για παντα..
αυτο μου φτανει..
ελπιζω...

The Icicle that Gave Me Away

It was early December of 1985. I was sixteen years old then. Since i grew up in Wisconsin, we always had very heavy and freezing winters. We had already had around a meter of snow outside and the temperature was below zero. We then lived in a two floor Tudor house and from my bedroom window on the first floor, you could see the small woods that our neighbor had of pine and fur trees which were all laced with snow. I often used to gaze out of my bedroom window during the winters. That night there was a full moon because i remember the night looking so full of light.

This was the time that i was in love for the first time. He was twenty one years old and i had had a crush on him since i was thirteen. I remember going to church on Sundays and staring at him, my mind daydreaming and not paying any attention to what our priest was saying. All GreekAmericans go to church by the way on Sundays. Not because they're that religious, but more because it's a way to keep the Greek feeling and spirit alive.

The years had passed and i finally grew up enough for him to pay attention to me and our age difference wasn't that important anymore. At that time, i was in the choir and he sat with his parents. I remember feeling so nervous every Sunday but at the same time so excited. This somehow turned into a relationship at one point, and he and i were an official 'couple'. Official to everyone that is, except my parents.

My parents didn't believe that children needed anyone else in their lives besides the family. Since i had two brothers and one other sister at that time (my second sister came a few years later), this was all the company i needed in their logic. I, on the other hand, was always a rebel..and many times a rebel without a cause. Disagreeing and fighting back my parents seemed as natural as drinking water and i showed it to them on a daily basis. It was only natural that they didn't know about my so-called 'relationship', though news of this kind spread very quickly in the Greek community because everyone wanted their son/daughter to marry another Greek.

Meeting with John was difficult though. I used to skip out of classes often, make up excuses to go the library for school papers and reports but things became more and more difficult as time passed. Drastic measures had to be taken. This is where the cold night in December takes place.

I had decided to 'escape' the house at night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, to go and visit my knight in shining armour since it was his birthday. I shared my room with my younger sister and i still remember the shock in her eyes when i told her my master plan. That night, after my mother had kissed us goodnight and left to go the her bedroom (which was on the ground floor),my plan started. I had hidden sheets in my closet earlier on in the day and with my sister, we had knotted them together to make it look like a long rope...this was my way of getting down from first floor. I put my stuffed animals in my bed and tried to make them look like me under the covers . Yes indeed!!! I had certainly been watching TOO much television!

I opened the window..it was twelve o'clock...this was considered extremely late in suburbia American by the way. The 'rope' was tied to the bed and as soon as i threw it out of the window, i made my way out of the window. It was snowing i remember and the snow does make a sound as it falls in the night. I remember that sound well. I balanced my way out and jumped to freedom!! As i came down though, i clumsily hit against an extremely long icicle that had been hanging outside the window and it crashed against the house making an extremely loud noise in the quietness of the night. I stood motionless in the snow,wearing only jeans and a light sweater. I could see John's car waiting for me at the corner but i still stood there motionless, waiting to see what would happen.

The lights came on on the ground floor suddenly. For a moment i just stood there and felt that this was it...i was really in big trouble. I looked up at my sister who was still at the window and told her to go to bed and pretend that she hadn't known anything and i turned around and ran as fast as i could to john's car. Since i was in trouble anyways, i thought i might as well enjoy myself and that was exactly what i did until it was time to go back home and face the music.

I may have gone through a living hell when i returned home, and my relationship with John may not have lasted for more than a year or so, but this memory will always stay with me. i remember it with fondness and I'm quite proud of myself that i did have enough guts in my stomach to jump out of a window. There was only one thing that i hadn't calculated on-how i was going to get back up. When i did get back home though, all the lights were on. I remember standing out of the door for a while and taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell...

Speaking with the Night

After a day of running back and forth, doing things left and right, being stuck in traffic for incredible amounts of wasted time, its finally evening and I'm finally alone with my thoughts. Its a great thing coming home from a full day,kicking your shoes off the minute you walk into the door and stripping all pieces of clothing as you head towards the shower and washing off all the pollution and dirt from on you. What a relief it is indeed!

Ive always believed that the day has been overrated. Too much emphasis has been given to what we 'have' to do during the light hours of the day. Most of us are on the run,trying to meet deadlines,trying to do as many things as we possibly can in a ten hour working day(who works for eight hours anymore anyways?), aiming to finish whatever it is we think we have to before the sun sets. Is it any wonder that we loose track of the time..of ourselves...of our thoughts?

I enjoy sitting up at night. There is a certain tranquility that you will never be able to find during the day. This tranquility however has nothing to do with the of lack noise that there is in the evening. There is something else that exists in the darkness of the hours. Now that i sit in front of my PC, all i can hear is the hum of the computer, an occasional murmur from one of my sleeping children and the soft sound of the CD that I've put in to listen to. But if i listen a bit more carefully and more closer, i will hear the sound of quietness. Quietness. This is the sound that lets me hear my thoughts. That allows me to hear my worries and insecurities..things that I'm too afraid to think about during the day. Quietness offers me the ability to enjoy the feeling of satisfaction from positive and rewarding things that have happened during the day.

All of my most important decisions have been made during the night. All of my tears and heartache I've felt most at night as well, when no one can see me and I'm naked in front of my own truth and my own thoughts. My most passioned moments have also taken place during this time,when there is no thing such as rules and boundaries..the night shares no such laws...

All of my three children's births all began in the small hours of the night as well,when i had in fact calmed and let the peace of everything around me settle into me as well...these events aren't just accidental or coincidental..they all happen for the same reason...its the night speaking to me...

I wish i had more strength to stay up more and enjoy the night, its gifts and conversations more and to the fullest, but the fatigue of the day is just more overpowering most of the time and gently, but steadily, it makes my eyelids close gradually and whatever will i do have left, slowly leaves me. The night however will take on another,different role now. It will cover itself around me, just like the soft,warm blanket that i cover myself with before i fall asleep. As i lay down on my pillow,i will concentrate on the darkness that surrounds me and the tranquility that has covered me and slowly, just like a baby that is slowly being put to sleep by a soft lullaby, i will also drift away..into sleep.. into my own personal night...

Be careful of the Potholes

Yesterday i was warned by a friend to be careful of the potholes before going for a drive down by the seaside. I don't know why but his comment stuck in my mind and made me start thinking about it. I had wanted to get away from a few things that were troubling my mind for the last few days, and just sitting on an empty beach,staring at the sea, is enough to clear my head of all the cobwebs that occasionally (or quite often if i am to be honest) fill my head and make things a bit difficult to understand.


Sitting on the sand that still had a lot of dampness in it, i watched my children running around the edge of the shore, sometimes going dangerously near the water and my wondering if i had brought an extra pair of shoes with me in the trunk of the car..i doubted if i had but i didn't have the heart to tell them to stop or be careful and so went back to my own thoughts.


There is something so peaceful about being on an empty beach. The smell of the sea is crisp and you can feel it on your nostrils as you inhale in the cool air. Your eyes look right and left and all they can see is the wide open space in front of them, the deep blue of the water and of the sky, and the few boats that are still docked out on the sand. The sun was out yesterday and i could feel it slowly burning on my head and back. It felt as a warm and friendly touch. It was still too early in the year for the sun to feel hot,hostile and unfriendly. Looking around though,i realized that an empty beach shares together with the picture of peacefulness, the image of loneliness as well. You can feel its eager await for the summer and for the hundreds of people to sit themselves on it and enjoy themselves in any possible way.


So i sat there, daydreaming about things and letting my thoughts go here and there. Then it hit me. My friends words about potholes. I started wondering about these potholes that we come across in the streets. Some of them look shallow and painless but when we drive across them,we shudder from the fall. Others look deeper than they really are and though we take extra care not to drive over them quickly, we realize that there was,in fact no need to be so cautious. Then there are the 'suspicious' ones that are covered with water and you cant tell they're pot holes til you drive straight into them and feel your car crash into the hole. Those indeed hurt the most!! Last but not least,lets not forget the instances when were too lazy to avoid these 'traps' on the road and purposefully decide to drive right over them, like were trying to get even with them. What am i trying to say you re probably wondering to yourself. Good question!!


Sitting and analyzing potholes brought to mind the similarity they bare to relationships we have with people specifically. Let me explain before you stop reading this thought. How many times do we try to 'protect' ourselves from people who we think may not be right for us? (avoiding the pothole)How many other times do we get into relationships that seem destructive and are clearly to end up at a dead end from the beginning?(not avoiding the pothole and driving straight through) Lets not forget the instances when we put up our guard so much that in the end, all we accomplish to succeed is nothing even worth mentioning.(being extra careful driving through a pothole that in fact was nothing) And of course, the most most painful of all instances, when we do fall head over heels with someone which later on turns out to be the complete opposite of what we expected,devastating us and everything in the end.(the pothole that seemed harmless but in fact,sent the car to the mechanic)


You know,maybe comparing relationships to potholes is not the most poetic of metaphors that i could have used, but it proves the point. What good is using an abstract idea or concept to describe something more essential if practical contact and understanding cannot be acquired? Potholes are in our everyday life..the same goes for relationships. No two potholes are the same as no two relationships are either. My only doubt now as i write this is this. When he warned me to be careful of the potholes, was it the literal or metaphorical use of the word he was referring to? Good question...

Who is lied to in the end?

As it being April Fools Day today,I feel a bit summoned to write a few thoughts on the topic. The time is quite late in the evening (or early in the morning..take your pick) and it is at this time that I can hear my thoughts truly. The house is still and quiet and if i do concentrate on listening for a bit, I can hear my children's breathing as they peacefully sleep and dream of images that only children have the luxury of seeing.


I myself have gone through many stages of lying. Growing up with very authoritative parents, I found lying to my friends a comfort and a way to justify my parents illogical ideas on rearing children. I remember trying to find 'good excuses' for why my mother never let me go to any of my friend's birthday parties, or why it was that i could never bring home a friend to play with and the like. At that time, the lying became natural and it slowly began to be a part of my everyday existence. Actually it was a good escapism from the pressure that I felt.


Reaching adulthood and becoming more independent,I didn't 'need' to lie about anything to anyone anymore. The tremendous weight was finally lifted from my shoulders and a life without 'creative excuses' was indeed better than any other i had experienced before that and i continued this line of thinking in all my sides of life,professionally and personally. It had become something that i and those around me,were proud of.


However,things do have a way of changing on you and hold habits do die hard many times. During a 'rough' (to say it mildly) period in my life, I found lying again to be a good way of covering up mistakes and circumstances. This time though, it wasn't lying to friends or colleagues or even to family members. It was much worse and the consequences were completely the furthest thing from my head. I began to lie to myself. I was now both holding the knife and stabbing myself at the same time. Lying to myself and judging situations the way I wanted to see them may have brought domestic peacefulness for quite a long time, but personally speaking, I had indeed lost my own sense of self. So who was the greatest victim in that case? The one lying or the one being lied to? Unfortunately, the answer and the person was the same for both questions...


Why do people lie many times? The only just reason that i can say is that the truth is indeed too painful to come to grips with. I won't lie now and say that there haven't been quite a few times where i would have preferred to have been lied to rather than to have been given the raw truth. But then when i think about it sensibly, i do understand the fact that someone being honest with you is as rare as knowing someone who doesn't lie..it is indeed rare and precious....