Paula Garrett — A Letter to Charmian

Dear Charmian,

I came to Kalymnos to immerse in the air and sea and comings and goings, some 70 years after your time here. Yet many essential elements still permeate the island —the angle of the sun, the changing blues of sky and sea, people bustling and milling about. Commerce in its varying forms, ikons for sale and I imagine displayed inside homes. Fish grilled, bread baked.

Sitting outside of your yellow house, I imagine watching you in your long skirt belted over a white blouse returning with your market basket filled with the makings of dinner for your family.

Charmian shopping on the Kalymnos waterfront, summer of 1955

From my perch at the cafe now next door I see large vessels, many holding groups of tourists like the pretend pirate ship; people on different journeys.

An old man, probably younger than me and much more bent with braces to walk, talks to a group gathered another couple cafes away. He’s selling them sponges(?) or herbs(?) and they make a purchase. I wonder about his story.

Cars and mopeds dart about in front of people sipping frothy iced coffees, all within view of your writing window.

Your words and stories etched into my mind’s eye are now even more alive and vivid. I move through the spaces you inhabited and that inhabit your writing.