On planning this trip both Julian and Sinead had planned everything together, that is, all but their time in Ireland.
“Si, what about Ireland?” Julian had asked.
Without pausing, Sinead had answered, “This is what I had thought…What do you think?”
“Sounds great,” Julian had answered. He knew he would have planned it differently. But he was also aware that her planning had left the visit to Galway until the end.
He had added, “Good planning, Si.”
Arriving at Dublin, per Aer Lingus, another hired car was negotiated. Once again, they were on the moving stairway of life, but still aware of the beauty of the country – sometimes fierce, sometimes lush, sometimes gentle – as they passed through Kilkenney, Cork, Killarney, Dingle, Limerick. So much to see – and only a few days in which to do so! As they passed through the history, the entertainment – kissing the Blarney Stone, Irish dancing – the magnificence, the grandeur, the absolute beauty – the indescribable Dingle countryside in particular – Julian knew Sinead had returned to her roots and was delighted in it… Yet she was apprehensive of the final call.
The drive from Limerick to Galway promised a joyful trip. The sun shone brightly, the blue of the sky stretched from horizon to horizon, sparsely dotted with fluffy, white clouds. But Julian sensed the sun was not shining for Sinead. Abruptly he pulled to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. Surprised, Sinead turned to him.
“There is something wrong.” He spoke at once. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly, as he took her hand.
“I don’t know, Julian,” she whispered as tears began to flow.
“You know we don’t have to go through Galway – we can go back. You don’t have to do this, Si.”
“I know,” she sobbed. “I know. But I must.”
“What is hurting you so?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” she answered honestly.
“We’ll stop at the next village,” he declared. “We’ll think about it.”
At the next village they found a pub open for business and ordered tea and scones. Julian said nothing. He knew it would need be Sinead’s decision where they would go from here. He smiled at her over their cups of steaming tea.
Eventually, she whispered, “I’m frightened, Julian. I’m frightened of returning. I have never really closed the door on leaving after Mum died. Now I must face it – I must!”
“Yes. But you don’t have to do it right now,” he assured her.
“If I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it,” she answered.
“Then we’ll do it, Si. We’ll do it together. Okay?” He looked for her answer.
“Yes, Julian.” She held his hand tightly. “Let’s go,” she added softly.
The remainder of the miles to Galway was spent in silence, with Julian casting constant sideway glances towards his wife.
They left the car at the boarding house and slowly walked across the stone bridge, under the ancient archway and looked out on to the still blue waters of the Bay.
Julian stopped and turned her to face him. “How are you?” he asked quietly.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They soon passed a long row of terraced houses standing abruptly on their left, with Galway Bay shimmering on their right.
She stopped abruptly. “Is this it?” Julian asked as he looked up to a pale grey building.
“No. Two up,” she whispered.
It was part of a long row of terraced houses. Yet it was different. Of all the houses in this terraced row, this one stood out. Not only was it the only one painted bright pink, but the flower boxes were full of bright colour. Although the paint was inclined to peel in a few places, the dwelling appeared to be well kept.
“Someone loves it too,” she whispered as, once again, her tears fell.
“Sure,” was Julian’s only answer.
They walked the few yards to front it.
“Yes.” Her whisper was barely audible. Memories flooded back. “Someone still cares for it.”
The years melted away. Once again she was scooting along, following her brother as he raced up and down the street. As the green front door opened, once again she heard the lilting voice, “Come on in, you two. Time for your baths. Tea will be waiting.” She almost felt again the warm hug as she passed inside.
“Would you like to go inside?” Julian’s question brought her back to the present. He continued, “I’m sure if we tell them who you are, they will be happy to show you around.”
“No, Julian. I’m so pleased to see someone loves our old home and is looking after it. But inside is theirs now. I have – and always will have – memories of how it was. That’s just what I want – nothing else.”
Minutes passed as she continued to gaze at this quaint little pink terrace house. Memories flooded. When she turned, Julian knew before she spoke that resolution was imminent .
“It’s okay Julian,” she whispered. “Perhaps we’ll return another day. Now…”
They returned under the old arc. Walking in silence, they turned into the main thoroughfare. Sinead’s memories crowded out present events, until she became aware of the changed environment.
“Thanks, Julian!”
In reply he squeezed the hand he held.
“I need a Baileys!” she announced suddenly. Then added, “Or should I say, I’d like a Baileys, please!”
Sinead is back, Julian thought happily.
“Madam, your wish is my command,” he laughed as they found seats in the first pub they passed.
Over her Baileys and his choice of a Guinness, memories flooded. No longer memories hidden, but memories – wonderful memories – shared at last with someone – with someone she loved and trusted.
The next day they drove to the cemetery. As she stood at the foot of her grandparents’ grave, “God bless you both,” she whispered. “May you both now enjoy the reward you both so richly deserve.”
Julian stood beside her, holding her hand, knowing she needed to hold these memories of years, so long gone, yet so close and so meaningful to her as they could never be to anyone else.
As they began the drive to Dublin the next day, Julian asked, “Would you like to revisit yesterday in any way?”
“Not today. Perhaps another day in another year. But not today. Thank you,” she added as she kissed him fondly.