The Constant Change

Sophia stepped out onto the grassy shoreline. It felt cool and soft under her bare feet.

Strange. For sure.

Not like the gritty sand on the beach she'd come from that had baked all day in the hot, Mediterranean sun. Even at night, it still held a whisper of that heat.

But this, this was different.

The earth felt spongy under her feet, but not soaked. Damp, but not wet. Cool, but not cold.

A smile caught the corner of her mouth. She wriggled toes in the grass with pleasure.

...

This was the first time she'd smiled in the last few hours.

Giannis had been fighting again with Nico from the taverna when she arrived. His conviction that Italy was on the cusp of invading Greece. That we all needed to wake up before Hitler was on our doorstep too.

Nico had shrugged him off, as he always did. Told him to drink more koum kouat. That the Greek islands would never be invaded. Because, like England, they were islands.

That had only enraged Giannis, who had already drank a lot of koum kouat, even more. And he took a swing at Nico. He'd been tossed out by Nico and his wife Althea's brother about 2 seconds after that.

Sophia had leaned her head against the bar, knocking it 3 times before following Giannis outside.

This was the 2nd time this week he'd been thrown out of Nisi's. And there would have been a third if she hadn't of held him back from crashing through the door again.

She'd sent him home to sleep it off, ignoring his treatises to come along with him.

She'd wandered down to the beach alone after that.

It's not that she didn't think Giannis was right. She'd heard the news reports on the radio after dinner.

Times were changing. Europe felt fragile. And the solitude of the islands made her feel more like they were sitting ducks than seaside retreats.

She'd been sitting on the sand, watching the moonbeams dance on the surface of the sea.

And then she saw it.

Just a few dozen meters off shore. Around the edge of the peninsula on the right.

An island.

She'd blinked. Several times. Shook her head. And rubbed her eyes.

She'd been to Vourvoulos beach almost everyday of her life. All 21 years. But she'd never noticed an island before. Especially one that close.

Drawn to the water's edge, she'd gazed around the peninsula. Trying to see how far beyond the island went.

The cool water lapped at her feet. Her blue and white dress barely grazed her knees, but she gathered the hem in her hands and waded out into the calm sea.

She knew the water was shallow here. Barely a dip for more than 300 meters out.

Still, she could hear her father's voice in her head.

"Never go out in the water alone at night. You can't see what the sea is hiding beneath the waves."

...

Now, she bent down. Taking a blade of the strange grass between her finger and thumb.

It was thick and leathery, but soft as silk. It's surface smooth, but at the same time riddled with tiny bumps that grazed the skin of her thumb.

There was something familiar about it's texture. But she couldn't place it. She looked up to see how far down the island it grew.

That's when she realized she wasn't alone.

A little up the grassy pathway, farther down the shoreline, stood a figure.

Watching her, she felt.

It was a woman. Her face concealed by the shadow of the moon. Her long, white dress gliding gently around her ankles. Though Sophia felt no breeze where she crouched.

After a moment, the figure began to move towards her. As she did, the moonlight caught on her dress, illuminating a fabric that looked like it was covered in a million tiny stars, all twinkling on and off in their own time. Her long, gold hair rippled around her shoulders in the breeze that was not there.

Sophia stood, clasping her hands over her belly.

The woman stopped, still a few meters away. And Sophia could see she was not much older than herself.

The figure leaned forward and titled her head, as if trying to take in Sophia from all angles. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Repeating this several times. Each time, drawing in a gentle inhale that Sophia could hear from where she stood.

"How did you get here?" the woman said, finally. Her Greek with a lilt to it Sophia had never heard. Like water in an inlet rippling over stones.

Sophia looked over her shoulder at the black sand beach from which she'd come. She turned back to the woman.

"I waded," she replied and pointed to the beach. "From there."

The woman's brow furrowed. Her fingers touched her lips.

"And you were alone?" she said. Her words rolling out in her peculiar cadence. "You met no one in the water while you came?"

Sophia looked at the beach. Then back at the woman.

"No," she replied, her eyes crinkling with question.

"E!" the woman sighed, shaking her head. Then looked over her own shoulder, down the length of the island.

Sophia followed her gaze. The island stretched out much farther than she'd first thought. A series of rolling, rocky landforms dotted with clusters of plants gently swaying in the breezeless night. Beyond, Sophia could almost make out the glimmer of lights dancing against the night sky.

"Too obsessed with their own voices to even notice you coming," she heard the woman say.

When she looked back, the woman had taken a few steps onto the shore, perching herself on a rock. She tucked her feet beneath her and gazed out at the black sand beach across the water.

It was quiet for a moment. Just the sound of the waves lapping against the shore.

Sophia sat down on the spongy earth, digging her feet into the folds of the leathery grass. The air smelt fresh and salty.

She realized she should be cautious, her father's words rolling over in her mind. But something about the woman put her at ease. Like a wave gently crashing against the shore. Steady and flowing.

The woman sighed again. Then turned her head to Sophia.

"So, what brings you to the sea tonight?"

Sophia looked out at the water.

"Escape," she said. "From the voices. Obsessed with themselves too."

She looked over at the woman, who smiled and nodded.

"I don't get to come here much these days," she said, shifting herself on the rock. "Soon, maybe even less. This could be the last time in a while. Or so they are saying, in town."

She jutted her chin out, gesturing back towards the lights on the far side of the island.

"In Vourvoulos too," Sophia replied, gazing at the sloping hillside across the water. "At least that's what Giannis, agori mou, says..." She turned her eyes to the woman with a sly smile. "One of the voices."

The woman nodded again and smiled back. "Yes, seems like I know many Giannis' too."

Both of them chuckled. Their laughter floating across the bobbing sea.

"Hubris," she continued. "The downfall of many men."

"Yes," Sophia agreed. She thought about the news reports on the radio. "Both individually and at large."

A shadow of recognition crossed the woman's face. She curled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"My people know hubris well." She let out a long exhale. "Taking too much. Wanting more than their fair share." Her eyes on the beach across the sea. "It is always followed by a collapse. Puts you out of favour with the gods."

Sophia snickered at this. But the woman's face was serious.

"But," she said, looking back at Sophia. "Eventually, we rose again. Even if just for moments." She tilted her head towards her. "And we've learned to stay on our own shores."

Sophia leaned back on her hands and looked out at the sea.

She considered the woman's words. Something at the depths of them felt familiar. And true. She wondered if she was standing on the edge of a collapse too.

After some time, she spoke.

"Do you think Italy will invade?"

The woman didn't answer.

Instead, she slid down from the rock and wandered to the edge of the shore. She raised her arms, wrapping them around the top of her head. She stood there swaying gently in the moonlight.

"I don't know what will happen if they do."

At that, the woman turned to look at Sophia. She slowly crossed the shore between them, sitting down next to her on the grass. She studied her face for a moment. Her teal eyes searching for something within Sophia's.

Then she turned her gaze back to the water and the land beyond.

"Well," she said. "I've spent a long time watching things come and go along these shores. If there's one thing I've seen, it's that a change is always followed by another change."

She raised her arm, gesturing towards the water.

"Like the sea herself. Ebb and flow. Crash and retreat."

As she dropped her arm, something around her neck caught the moonlight.

A pendant on a delicate silver chain hung just above her heart. A kind of knot, Sophia thought. A single strand crossing over itself in a never ending loop. A bead of light, she first thought cast by the moon, slowly traced the path of the loop.

The woman looked down at her chest, then back at Sophia.

She reached behind her neck, undoing the necklace.

"Come," she said, tilting her head toward the water. And she stood, clutching the necklace in her hand.

Sophia got up and followed her to the water's edge.

The woman crouched, dipping her hand beneath the surface. She held it there as Sophia bent down to look.

The pendant, cupped in her palm, was moving.

Sophia blinked. And stooped lower for a better look.

The bead of light still traced it's path around the loop. But right behind it, a tiny wave followed, as if pushing it forward along the surface.

"It flows with the sea," the woman said. "It's rhythm changing with the waves."

She curled her fingers around the necklace and removed her hand from the water.

"It reminds us that change is the constant. And there's courage to be found in that."

She extended her hand to Sophia, the necklace dangling from her fingers.

Sophia hesitated. Then slowly reached for it. She clasped the silver chain in her hands, drawing it towards her. She threaded it over her neck, the pendant resting against her chest.

Cool, but not cold. Damp, but not wet.

She placed her hand against it and looked out at the island across the water.

It was getting lighter now. The first rays of sun poking up behind the hills. The flat roofed houses dotting the landscape, their white paint illuminated by the light.

"I should go," she said, getting to her feet.

"Us too," said the woman, looking back at the island behind her. Her skin looked pale in the growing light. But her dress still shimmered, like the sun dancing on waves.

Sophia got to her feet, collecting the bottom of her dress in her hands. She took a few steps into the water.

“Thank you,” she said, patting her chest where the pendant sat. “I’m glad we met.”

The woman smiled and bowed her head towards Sophia. She stepped back up the grassy shoreline.

Sophia turned to the water and began making her way across the sea. The waves had picked up now, rolling gently towards the beach on the opposite shore.

A few meters out, she heard the woman call to her. She turned back, listening for her words against the waves.

"What is your name?" the woman asked.

"Sophia," she replied, a breeze now rippling through her own hair.

The woman reared back. Her face turning to the sky in laughter.

She looked back at Sophia. A grin across her lips.

"Wisdom," she said. "That name will serve you well."

She raised her hand in a wave. Her palm still, but her fingers rippling gently as if moved by the breeze.

"What's yours?" Sophia called back. But at that moment the waves kicked up, crashing hard against the rocks on the island's shore. If the woman replied, Sophia never heard it.

She raised her hand, rippling her fingers like woman's. Then turned back to the black sand beach, to the island that was her home.

She was almost to the opposite shore when she felt it. The change.

The azure water still sparkled in the morning light, set off by the dark sand of the gritty beach. The sand coloured cliffs soared high around the beach's edge. The pointy tops of the cypress trees peaked out from the top of the path that led back to town.

But the Santorini she'd set off from on this warm October night was no longer the Santorini it was now.

Greece, no longer the same Greece. Maybe it never would be again.

She thought to turn back to the island just beyond the peninsula. But she knew it was no longer there.

Sunk back beneath the waves.

She'd heard the stories the philosophers had told, all those years ago. An island and all it's inhabitants, lost to the sea.

But they were not lost.

Only changed by it. A change following another change.

And Greece was not lost too.

She clutched the pendant around her neck. And began to make her way onto shore.