One of the stops on our vacation was a day in Nafplion, Greece. While Wendy scoured the stores for small gifts for our grandchildren or some piece of clothing that she fancied, I meandered into an art gallery. The walls were covered with paintings, sculptures, and other beautiful works of art.
But one piece, in particular, stood out and called to me. It was a ceramic sculpture created by Manolis Patramanis. The image was that of a man standing with his reflection appearing as an angel. It hit me profoundly. I found myself drawn to the idea that there is an angel within each of us.
There was an older man sitting at the desk and, as it turned out, his wife was sitting across from him. I told him how much I was drawn to the piece, but I needed the input of “the boss.” He laughed and told me, in very broken English, that he had two bosses: his wife and his son, who owned the gallery.
When I returned after finding Wendy and getting her thumbs-up, we completed the sale with his son, whom he had called after hearing of my interest in the piece. We talked about life and about his health challenges. He told me his name was Dimitri and that he was retired but battling heart disease.
I told him how wonderful his English was. He beamed with pride and gratitude, telling me his English was not very good, but that he appreciated my saying otherwise. I asked his name, and we concluded our conversation with a big hug. His smile lit up the room. His inner angel shone brightly.
It was a good day.
