The Kindest Welcome
Some places never forget how to welcome you.
There was no road here once.
Only a hillside, a narrow footpath, and a small orchard where no one ever left empty-handed.
The years changed the landscape.
A road now crosses the hillside.
The children grew older.
Many of the familiar faces quietly disappeared.
Yet some things refused to leave.
I arrived in Symi late in the afternoon.
The fig branches were leaning over the fence, heavy with fruit.
I couldn't resist.
I picked two figs.
A little farther, I met Mr. Giannis.
I greeted him.
"I stole two figs from your tree," I said.
He smiled.
"Wait."
A moment later, he returned with a whole handful.
Sometimes, what survives the passing of time is not a place.
It is the kindness that continues to live within it.
Some places still measure wealth by what they give away.