castletown bere

since i have been home, six people told me they liked my writing (who knew?) and two encouraged me to post up another part of my journal.
here is another entry, i wrote it when i was on the train from cork to dublin, but it happened in castletown bere, a south western town by the ocean.


“the fruit of the gods”:
i bite into a tomato, it exploded in my mouth. it is fresh, deep red, small but realistic. the juice dripped down my fingers, the sweet nectar wasted on a napkin. it is sweet with a tint of tang, you can taste the colors of it.

castletown berehaven:
the air is heavy with mist, cigarette smoke, and it smells of the prizes of fishermen. the setting sun is illuminating everything to a perfect rendition of classical art: skin is soft, colors muted but true, everything calm. it’s a painting.


i squeeze my toes and take another bite of ripe, ruby fruit. there isn’t a single part of me that felt any kind of anger, frustration or depression while i have been here. of course, it’s a vacation, it’s getting away from the norm. but i think this is something deeper. i feel connected here, where i am a stranger, where i don’t know anything or anybody.

connected:
to the ocean, the earth, the little pubs, cafes and shops, the people and for once, myself. i feel whole. i feel stronger, smarter, enhanced, attractive, witty, fashionable, inspired, quick-minded... not just fulfilled but above and beyond. my skin is softer because it is humid, my hair is shiny, my shoes seem to fit better, i have an appetite...
love is the last place i wanted to be, but here, walking the cobblestone street by zetland pier, i find myself drowning in it.

i pick up the pace and walk toward the water, away from the clattering noises of town. i started to jog. my flats were slowing me down so i kicked them off. the water is closer, i can smell the salt air, sand scratching at my toes. i begin to run, dropping my bag full of books, people are watching, i don’t care, they need to see it. i am almost at the grey choppy water. i keep running, my heart is pounding with exhilaration, i am almost there...

once upon a time:
there was a girl. she was upset, so depressed that it hurt physically. she felt disabled, and couldn't understand why she had been gifted such an imbalance. her logic was backwards, and she thought she didn’t deserve anything that felt good. she never smiled, she never ate, she never slept without nightmares. she didn’t feel human, but instead felt numb...

when my body hit the icy waves of the ocean, i knew that girl was dead. that miserable individual, lost, insecure. she was gone. i came out of the ocean laughing, throwing my hands and my eyes to the sky. a group of tourists began to clap, so of course, i took a bow.

“vat did you do?”:
i had a lot of explaining to do to anya when she picked me up at the docks and my skirt and top were soaking wet. i had the chills, skin prickly with goose bumps, alive. i don’t know if she understood entirely, but she smiled and handed me her jacket.

“we will go home now, ya?”

“ya, anya. definitely.”

once upon a time:
there was a girl. she organized her thoughts around dreams. she took classes in sign language and got training in care for special needs children. she sold her car, her desk and bed and bookshelves. she took her dog and got on a plane and went to where she was meant to be. she lived her life in a little village on the coast. she got a job, a house, and cooked dinner every night. she lived simply, sincerely.

why not?