I had a deep connection with lost loved ones on Christmas Day, and it happened in the kitchen.
I had just opened a bottle of my family’s Greek olive oil, when the smell instantly transported me to a different place and time.
It was the summer of 1986 in the northeast mountains of Greece.
My pappou was on the balcony of his home, bird watching while quietly humming a song to himself. My yiayia was in the kitchen, of course, cooking breakfast.
I had just woken up to the smell of olive oil, and the sound of eggs frying in a cast iron pan.
As I walked into the kitchen, yiayia smiled, pulled out a chair for me, poured some juice, and served breakfast.
A breakfast that would never taste as good from my own kitchen, no matter how many years or eggs you gave me.
We lost yiayia in 2009. She was 89 and died in her sleep. Pappou didn’t last long without her, dying at 95 less than a year later.
I felt sadness, of course, but grateful more than anything else.
Grateful they were a constant part of my life. Grateful that they spent time with my twin daughters, who still remember them. They experienced so much love from kids, grandkids, and great grandkids.
What more could you want in life?
I’m glad you were with me in the kitchen on Christmas this year, yiayia & pappou. 🎄🫒
Thank you for that. 🧡
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https://www.YouTube.com/watch?v=ejeIz4EhoJ0
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