Eyelashes, or if you prefer the Greek, βλεφαρίδες, are what I’ve wished on from the moment I thought I could study abroad (roughly 19 months, 9 days, 16 hours and 31 minutes ago). I would peer at them for a moment, tiny and delicate on my index finger, and resolve a melody of thoughts. This is for Greece; Greece; Greece; I am going to Greece. I believe that they are the most unique way of talking to God. My eyelashes are not long and elegant, but He made me the way I am, so the offering of little stubby strands are blown away. God is not a genie, however; so I learn to accept that what I wish on an eyelash isn’t what He has planned for me.
I wiped an eyelash off my face this morning, and dropped it into my sink. As it swirled away in the water, I thought about how I don’t need to wish anymore, because that sink is in my little apartment on Ερατοσθένους street in the neighborhood of Pagrati, Athens, Greece. In this ancient place of the Greek gods, I am still ever faithful to the God. As for being grateful to Him for getting me here, I thank God every day by experiencing. For instance, I have visited perhaps the ultimate Athens attraction, the Acropolis, around six times now. Just like those silent wishes, my heart and mind’s awe is my communication. But even the simple things, like giggling when I see something new and amazing in the grocery store (Buffalo Milk Butter?) and grinning at the Oregano-flavored Lay’s chips… I know my laughter floats to Him.
While finishing this post on my balcony, I think of everything: 68 degrees Farenheit, 19.444 Celsius, I broke out my shorts yesterday, my neighbor’s plants, the non-stop traffic, the end of Carnival, the Domino’s Pizza on the corner, Kekko’s Coffee and Sweets across the street, the clouds rolling in, and the eyelashes no longer wished on.