A fragment of summer...
The woman has gone to visit her mother in a nearby village and has left the child in her husband's care. It is the last days of summer, the sun has risen for sometime now and the child is still asleep. The man is sitting in the small garden and on the old iron table, he is carving a small heart out of a piece of cedarwood, to give it to his dear. He accidentally cuts his finger and enters the house in order to put some alcohol on his wound. Unable to remember where it is, he decides to put some ouzo on his finger instead. He NEVER forgets where the drink is kept. He also pours a dram to drink by the way. When he heads for the garden again, he sees that the little girl has awaken and sitting on her bed, she is smiling at him. "Good morning my lady, go to wash yourself." he says. He starts to warm her milk and drinks half of his ouzo. The child comes back in bliss and jumps on his neck to kiss him. He sends her to the garden and dizzy with joy, he empties her milk in his half finished glass of ouzo. He brings her the glass and the little one, still drowsy, quaffs it without a breath... Half an hour later, the mother returns. She is holding two peaches, that her mother gave her, in her hands. An early cyclamen that she found on a rock bedecks her ear. When she opens the garden's gate, she can see the little one sitting on her father's lap, dangling her bare feet and conducting an invisible orchestra, with a little leafy twig that she cut from the lemon tree. They are both cackling. The mother approaches them smiling and leans over her daughter to kiss her. The peaches fall from her hands and squash on the garden's floor. She turns to her husband, her eyes ablaze! "WHY does the child smell like this? WHAT did she drink?" she asks him. He, having just realized why he could not find his drink, bows his head in shame and reaches his hand towards her. He is holding the small heart that he had finished carving meanwhile. The woman's eyes allay. A crooked smile forms on her lips. She takes the heart and while stroking his head, she places it inside her breast's pocket. The lassie, half drunk, is now dancing to the tunes of her invisible orchestra. Her baton's scent is wafting through the small garden, mixing with the peaches' that her parents are now eating aroma . The sun has warmed the soil and the child giddy and panting, nests in her mother's arms. The little one's sweat smells of ouzo and milk. She leans on her mother's bosom that smells of cedar, clings her lemon leaves scented arms around her neck and while touching with her little nose the cyclamen, she whispers in her mother's ear: " Momma, I like poppa's milk the best..." A playful breeze is coming from the sea surrounding Nisyros, in the South East Aegean and enfolds them tenderly. And God is smiling...