27
ROSE
Stepping outside the plane at Santorini Airport, I feel the warmth surrounding me. It takes me into its loving arms and shows me that not everything sucks right now.
Looking around, I can’t believe that I’m finally here! It’s my first time abroad, and what a destination it is indeed. It seems like I just walked into a movie set ofMamma Mia!or something.
When inside the terminal, I see my mom first. My gaze travels to my two brothers and their father Dimos next.
It is such an unreal moment. My brothers haven’t met me in real life since I wasn’t ready before today. When they start running towards me while squealing with happiness, all I want to do is cry happy tears. They don’t get why today is such an emotionally draining day for us adults.
I open my arms as Leo and Chris get close and hug me. Bending down, I kiss their foreheads and take a deep breath while wrapping my arms around two little bodies.
These two tiny humans are my brothers. My little brothers.
It’s easy to tell them apart too. Leo has the same color hair as I do, while Chris has dark hair like his father. Otherwise, the twins look almost identical.
Looking up at my mom, I see her eyes glistening. Her reaction brings bitter sadness to the moment that I’ve been waiting for years, and I motion her to come to join us for a group hug. She hasn’t always been there for me since she left. But after I called her and told her that I needed her, she stepped up. That’s why I’m finally trying to let go of my hurt.
Outside the busy airport, I take in my surroundings. The feel of the sun on my skin, the melodic language, a slight ocean breeze, and all the other details amaze me.
My brothers fight over who gets to be next to me in the back seat of the car. It’s funny to follow their conversation as they switch between Greek and English—my mom informed me the twins speak English at home and Greek everywhere else. She also told them to speak English around me since I don’t speak Greek.
I end up sitting in the middle so both boys can be next to me. It feels weird to be idolized by these two little guys who look like me but not exactly like me. It’s easy to tell that we are related, but there are some differences as we don’t share more than half of our heritage.
It takes around half an hour to get to where the hostel is. The drive is stunning as we drive the ocean road. What catches my attention is these little monuments with crosses on top of them.
“Dimos, what are those things with crosses?”
“We call themekklhsakia. The candle inside is calledkandylakia. Your mother knows more about them in English.”
Turning to me, my mom explains whatekklhsakiaare. “Those are roadside shrines, in memory of people who lost their lives in road accidents. Sometimes people also place them as a gesture of thankfulness if they survived an accident in that spot. It’s like a thank you gift to their patron saint.”
I stare out of the window as we pass one after another. It’s such a humbling experience to see all those shrines.
My mother continues. “Families visit the sites annually to remember their loved ones too. Locals use wood, stone, or concrete to create the shrines. Like Dimos mentioned, there’s oftenkandylakiainside too. It’s a Greek tradition; the idea behind it all symbolizes loss, miracles, religion, and other things. To me, they remind me that life can be short, and we should enjoy it while it lasts.”
Speechless, I just keep looking out the window. When there are steep turns, the number of shrines increases. It’s a tragically beautiful thing to witness.
* * *
Santorini is one of the most romantic travel destinations in the world. I thought coming here would be a promising idea but being here makes me miss Eli. And everything in my life connects to him—my favorite shirt, my body spray, even my floppy sun hat.
The scenic town of Oia, where I’m wandering around today, is on the northwest edge of Santorini Island. If you’ve seen the postcards from the island, this is most likely where they took the pictures. The white-painted houses with deep blue roofs match the colors of the flag. There’s that one church that has the famous bells too.
How can I be here on this paradise island with a broken heart?
Not on my honeymoon, like many couples here are.
If you ever think of taking a holiday after a breakup, go anywhere but somewhere romantic like Santorini.
The following morning after my exploration, I wake up to an awe-inspiring sunrise. The colors painting Santorini are breathtaking. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
I quickly change into a light green sundress. Taking my black Birkenstock sandals and Kindle, I quietly open the door and walk outside. Nobody is up but me. It’s a perfect time to chill and finish my latest romance read,Reel,about a Hollywood tale of wild ambition, artistic obsession, and unrelenting love.
Maybe reading romance novels isn’t the best thing to do with a broken heart. Still, one of my favorite authors, Kennedy Ryan, never disappoints with her realistic, touching stories about love that goes beyond race, social status, and other factors.
Walking to the pool, I stop to smell the colorful flowers growing next to the hostel building. This place is pure magic for sure. If I didn’t have school next month, there’s a chance I would stay much longer.
