Deb’s Journey to Greece
For as long as I could remember, Greece was my dream vacation. I imagined myself wandering through the ancient ruins of Athens, watching the sun set over the beautiful white cliffs of Santorini. It was a magical vision that kept me going through the everyday grind of life. After years of hard work and sacrifice, Greece felt like my reward, my escape.
But then Dan, my husband, started worrying more about money. “Deb, we have to deal with our debt,” he said more often than I liked. So, I knew that if I wanted to make my dream come true, I had to save up even more. I was a private chef, working for two families each week, and to earn extra money, I began taking on custom orders for cakes and desserts.
One evening, when I was too tired to cook and had ordered pizza instead, Dan asked, “Why are you working so hard, Deb?”
“Because I want to save money,” I replied simply. “I want to get us to Greece.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Deborah! When will you stop talking about Greece?” he muttered, clearly annoyed.
“I’ll stop when I go. Don’t you want to come with me?” I asked, hoping to spark some excitement.
Dan softened for a moment and poured me a glass of wine. “Of course, darling. I’m just stressed out at work. Teaching math to kids who don’t want to learn is tough,” he admitted.
“It’s okay,” I said, unsure if he really meant it. “I promise you, Deb, I’m all for it,” he assured me.
I believed that we would work towards this dream together, but every time I brought it up, Dan would say something like “next year.” And every time next year arrived, he had an excuse: “Work is too busy, Deb,” or “I can’t afford to take time off.” Or there were problems at home, like “the geyser is broken” and “the dishwasher is on its way out.”
I kept telling myself it was okay. “We’ll go eventually,” I thought. “That’s what people do—put off things for a while, then enjoy them when life settles down.” But life never really settled down. The years went by, and the trip to Greece was never mentioned again.
By the time I was almost 65, I had saved up enough for both of us to go. And it wasn’t just a little money—I could afford business-class tickets and 5-star hotels! I decided I wasn’t waiting any longer. I planned everything: a two-week dream vacation in Athens, Santorini, and Mykonos, places I’d only seen in travel magazines.
I even bought myself a new swimsuit—something I hadn’t done in years. I wanted to feel good and enjoy the life I had worked so hard to build.
One evening, I decided it was time to talk to Dan. I cooked him his favorite lamb chops and roasted potatoes to help sweeten the deal. “Dan,” I began, “I’ve saved enough. Let’s go to Greece for my 65th birthday.”
He looked up from his phone, barely glancing at me. Then, he burst out laughing. “Greece? Deb, really? At your age?” he said, sounding shocked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I froze, my heart sinking.
Dan leaned back in his chair, shaking his head as if I were one of his students who didn’t understand. “I mean, come on, Greece? You’re too old for that, aren’t you? What are you going to do there? Walk around in that silly swimsuit? No one wants to see that.”
His words made my skin crawl. I sat there, stunned, trying to understand how the man I had loved for decades could be so cruel. “I’ve been saving for this trip for years, Dan. We always talked about going together. I want to enjoy it with you.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe you should set your sights on something more… reasonable. How about a trip to a cabin or to the beach? Something nice and quiet, where you can sit and read. Greece is for people half our age. You’re not twenty anymore.”
My throat tightened, but I managed to say, “This is my dream, Dan.” His face hardened, and he tossed his half-eaten lamb chop onto his plate.
“Your dream is a waste of time and money, Deb. Speaking of which, why don’t you give me that money you’ve saved? I’ve been thinking about a fishing trip with the guys. That’s a much better use of the money. You don’t need to blow it on some ridiculous fantasy.”
That’s when something inside me snapped. All those years, I had been waiting for him. I had put off my happiness and my freedom because I thought we were in this together. It was supposed to be Dan and me forever, exploring Greece as a couple. But the truth was, he never cared about my dream.
I stood up, pushing my chair back with force. “I’m going to Greece, Dan,” I declared.
“Sure you are,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
The next morning, while Dan was out, I did something I hadn’t had the courage to do before. I booked the trip for the next day. Two weeks in Greece. No hesitation. No asking Dan. Nothing. It was just about me and what I wanted.
I packed my bags, grabbed a pen, and left a note on the kitchen counter. “Dan, you’re right. I am too old. Too old to keep waiting for someone who doesn’t care about my happiness. Enjoy your fishing trip—you’ll have to pay for it yourself.” Then, I left.
I didn’t know what would happen next, and honestly, I didn’t care. I just knew that if I stayed, I’d never forgive myself. And I would start to despise Dan.
The moment I stepped off the plane in Athens, I felt a shift inside me. The air was different, lighter, warmer. I wasn’t waiting anymore. I walked through the ancient ruins, and the history of the place washed over me like a wave. I stood on a cliff in Santorini, and for the first time in years, I felt free.
And, of course, I wore the swimsuit I had bought. You know what? I felt beautiful in it! I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was living my life—finally.
Then, something magical happened. One lovely night in Santorini, I met Michael. He was sitting alone in a café, his kind smile lighting up his face as he gazed out at the water. We struck up a conversation, and before I knew it, we were sharing dinner and talking for hours about our lives.
“A personal chef?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “That’s impressive.”
“I love using my hands,” I replied. “And there’s an intimacy to cooking that I adore.”
We spent the rest of my trip together, exploring islands, sipping cocktails, laughing over meals, and enjoying a connection I hadn’t realized I was missing. Michael saw me—not as someone “too old” or past my prime, but as a woman who wanted to live life fully. Greece was everything I wanted and needed, and so much more.
When I finally returned home, I found that Dan was gone. He had packed his things and left me a note saying he had moved in with his brother.
Instead of feeling lost or abandoned, I felt relief. I was free! Now, months later, I’m still in touch with Michael, eagerly waiting to see what happens next.
What a journey awaits us both! Share your thoughts in the comments!
