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There’s a particular spot in our village, where if you wait, you can hitch a ride. This day, as we drove by, a local Cypriot man gave us a nod. We stopped for him. He slid into the backseat of our car, two shopping bags full … his face tired, but his smile bright and his eyes kind.

A few minutes up the road he leans forward, “Here, you drop me here.” Looking around, there’s just an empty street. No home, nor people nor a village in sight. John quizzed him, “Do you live here?”

“No, but I can walk the rest of the way,” he says. “It’s too far for you to take me up the mountain.”

“No, no. We take you.”

So up the wavy mountain road we go, one kilometre, two kilometres, three. I have no idea how he would have walked it – but he does on many days.

Along the way, he makes a phone call, “Mother, get the coffee ready. I have two English people (he thinks we’re English :D) who are carrying me home. Yes, all the way. Five minutes”

Seven kilometres later, we arrive at his home; a traditional villa framed in magenta bougainvillaea and backdropped by the Mediterranean blue. Out front stood a beautiful Cypriot woman standing arms open, ready to welcome us into her home.

A memory of my husband’s dear Yia Yia flashed in my mind. This woman reminded me of her so much I wanted to cry. She even wore the same little black slippers Yia Yia wore out in her garden.

This gracious lady sat and told us stories about life in her village, the miracles at her local church and how her husband had since passed. The lines on her face and hands told stories too … of hardship and war and the back-breaking work of her younger years. I felt both respect and love for her.

Her home was filled with colour and light. Beautifully decorated marrow sat beside old family photos and hand crotchet doilies. Flowers and painted doors with delicate touches like dried lavender had turned her house into a loving home.

She led us into her garden. We meandered past pomegranates, oranges and lemons, mandarin trees, rosemary bushes, olives and grapes … as we passed, she grabbed a handful of whatever she was growing … parsley, grapes, chillies and placed them in a bag.

As we prepared to leave, she pushed the bag into my hand with a smile. She kissed me on both cheeks, “For you. You come back for coffee anytime.”

As we waved goodbye to her and her son, I felt we’d been blessed. We’d given him a short ride but had received so much more…

Not just warm smiles and human connection, but a sharing of stories, a remembrance of our own beloved Yia Yia AND a bag full of Cypriot goodies to enjoy.

Source : https://dailyinspiredlife.com/beautiful-cypriot-woman-story-of-human-kindness/#comments/870

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