How many pictures can I take of the same of the same view? More than this, I promise. I took you to our beach last week, and it's past time I get us back around the world and share some shots from our trip to Greece and Italy back in June.

The resort where we stayed was near Olympia, right on the Ionian Sea. I have some pictures of the resort, and some funny stories about it too, that I'll share with you soon, but first I want to show you this glorious water.

We had some waves the first day, but they were little, even by the standards of what we refer to our Atlantic Ocean: Lake Virginia Beach. After that, placid skies and placid seas. Bracing water. I'm not sure if it was the time of year or the weather pattern that met us there, but the skies were soft, almost hazy, every day, even with low humidity. We could just make out mountains rising from the water, far in the distance, and occasionally a cruise ship would hulk slowly off shore.

The water changed color daily and was always crystal clear. Shallow and buoyant beyond belief, we marveled at how easily we floated and how far down we saw our wiggling toes.

Cal forcefully took on the water every chance he could. He kayaked every day. He swam, he dove. I met him in the water, moving more slowly, but so grateful for each buoyant float. I'm a floater more than a diver, I suppose.

Every day I walked the curve of land that hugged our hotel. Turn left, you hit the resort. Rows of white umbrellas waiting for families to take cover. Turn right and almost immediately you're in rural, coastal Greece. Fishing families with ragged homes perched along the shore. Tarp covered patios, barking dogs. These are no coastal hideaways. Fancy and designed for vacationers. These are the homes of working men and women. Scrappy and held together with twine and wire.

I always turned right when I went to walk.

The day after we learned that Violet died, I took this walk, my feet sinking into cool sand, the calm sea a gentle slap against the shore. It was glassy, smooth and serene, balm to my breaking heart. I walked all the way to that tiny cove, where boats bobbed and one lone swimmer broke the surface with a steady stroke. If I ever needed a message that the sea and the sand starts to heal me, this walk was it. I was still heartbroken, my emotions were still raw, but with this water alongside me, I was walking on.