On a whim I decided to hike Fairhead by myself; something I've been saying I'd do since the moment I landing on Northern Irish soil. I did it - that's me embracing the land that jutted to the sea.
I haven't been able to look at this picture until now.
I've loved being back in the U.S., and back to where we called home before we left. I've loved running into people I know, and planning playdates with friends I've missed. I've missed them so much. It's been two weeks from this exact moment as I write this.
Breath in. Breath out.
But there are still moments where I begin to hyperventilate - moments of panic because everything isn't as easy as it was three weeks ago. People aren't as friendly as three weeks ago. My son doesn't use a knife and fork like he did three weeks ago. The soccer ball doesn't get kicked around as much as it did three weeks ago.
I feel home-less right now - like no place is really my home. I belong nowhere. I feel like I'm floating - my feet just inches off the ground.
Breath in. Breath out.
I lie in bed and feel my chest clench up when I think that maybe we've made a mistake. I hear people talking in grocery stores and I want to run into the restroom and cry.
I remember I told a friend that I was so excited about moving here, to a small town, but I was worried about how I would fit in to this conservative little piece of the countryside. She looked at me and told me in so many words, that it probably wasn't about me. She looked me in the eye with so much seriousness and said, "Maybe you're being planted there for someone else."
That makes everything feel right.
And it helps that so many people I love are here to fill my days with laughter - the kind of laughter I remember spilling out of my gut.
You see, I have magic people here too. Magic people that make my face hurt from too much smiling. Magic people who love me even when I come home and all I want to talk about are the people I left.
You see, I am so so lucky. I wish everyone was as lucky as I am to have friends such as these.
Breath in. Breath out.
But that doesn't mean that I don't long for the sound of the ocean, or the people that I lived with for two years. I still do.
So much so that it hurts just a little too much to write about it yet.
But I want you to know that I'm okay. I'm better than okay. I'm loved.
4 comments:
The sound of the ocean. The wind on the side of the golf course when walking into town. The owner man in Cafe Boyle's whose name I don't know but who learnt my name early on and remembered my name when I returned after 8 months of being away. Maud's ice cream. Knocklayd with Mick and Aafke. The never ending uphill when you walk from the seafront to the Naylor's. The metal sound when the hatch rolls up before mealtime. The fire alarm in the middle of the night. The steps in the corridor while you're trying to sleep and you know exactly who's walking there. Coventry front door. Aaron singing downstairs Coventry while you're trying to work in the computer room. Fergal's bike on the back yard. The tea and toast at 11 on the sofas in housekeeping.
I still miss a lot of things. A lot of things make my heart ache. But I'm trying to think that this world is small, we'll meet again and there is a reason why it was important for me to be there for those 12+1 months, although now it just makes me miss people and places.
I'm totally bawling my eyes out because the reality is that one day this will be me. Praying for you through this transition. ((((hugs)))))
Only just found your blog and you have already left Northern Ireland! (Found your post on A Cup of Jo)
Hope you settle in soon, and it feels like home, but I suspect a wee bit of your heart will always be back here. I'll wave and say "hi" to Fair Head for you - but don't imagine I'll be climbing up there myself!
This is such a great post. And it tugs at my heart strings! Five months ago, I moved back from living in Thailand and Cambodia for several years. I moved to DC for work, and that first month was just such a shock to my system. Hearing people speak with American accents all day long, the cold, the size of cars/plates of food, etc. I kept reminding myself to breath.
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