He sat on the park bench next to me. And for a moment, I thought this is it.
He looked at me longingly… and his speech and demeanor had changed. Nervous?
I’m watching his hands fumbling in his coat. We talked like we hadn’t talked in years, even though we’d been together for 10 years. There was a quiet in the air that hung above us and that was all.
The couple behind us fed the ducks. They quacked merrily along the pond’s edge. We laughed, and it had been so long since I heard you relax that I blushed. That was what I had been missing. At home, it wasn’t quite like this. There was always some boundary between us. You worked… and I worked, and we had our separate lives.
Here. In Dublin, we were one again. It felt like it had then and not like it does now. I miss Dublin.
I miss the crisp air and the cheerfulness. I miss the artistic soul that it let us glimpse into if only for a moment because Dublin was the one place where I felt real. It was a place where writers thrived and artists glimmered in the daylight of cobbled streets with musical instruments. It was the place where I got to see a piece of you that I haven’t in quite some time.
It was a place where books and places came to life. A sleepy, dreaming place where it hadn’t aged but it had. The bookstores from the outside looked old and timeless, but to step inside was to come back into the modern world and see that nothing had changed. It only seemed so from a distance.
And therefore, Dublin, you have stolen a piece of my heart that I never want back. You can keep it.