On Friday, my friend and I made our way to Howth for a hike. The weather was perfect, I had no responsibilities for the day, and when I eventually returned home and crawled into bed, I was the kind of tired that only comes about through living life especially vigorously. The hike was long, the sun was warm, and the pints at the end of the trail were particularly good.
I’ve been doing a good deal of exploring the county recently, as restrictions begin to lift and we have been able to do various hikes and adventures within our county. I’ve been to Howth several times before—it’s one of my favorite places I’ve been since arriving in Ireland last August. I didn’t expect to see anything new there, but my friend and I ended up taking a trail that I’d never been on before, and I saw a side of the area that I’d never seen before. It was a quiet trail that oscillated between forest and cliffside, breaking off periodically into quiet alcoves where we stripped off our socks and dangled our toes into the icy water.
My brain is often in a state of wondering, what comes next? Lately, this question has been directed at what I’ll be able to see of Ireland when, starting tomorrow, I’m able to go anywhere in the country. It has been directed at how my time with House of Brigid is coming to a close after two years. I do know where I’ll physically be next year, but what does ending this chapter of my life mean for my faith life? My sense of community?
It’s easy to begin to miss things before they’re even gone. I find myself grasping at moments, trying to commit them to memory, before they slip through my fingers like water. Remember this when, this time next year, you’ll have been gone from Ireland for quite some time. Take advantage of these opportunities before they’re gone completely.
But on Friday, I just let myself be. I soaked in the beauty of the day, and I didn’t interrupt my enjoyment to constantly remind myself to memorize the shape of the cliffs and the color of the water. I didn’t think of reopening, nor did I think of the end of June, when I’ll get on a plane and officially end my time in this place. I just lived, and breathed, and felt the ground beneath my feet, and it was one of the best days I’ve had in these past two years.
This is my final individual blog post as a House of Brigid fellow. I oscillate between feeling as though I’m writing this reflection just a bit too early, and feeling as though this is a good time to verbally process my leaving. I’m hoping for many more days here in Ireland where I don’t worry about what comes next, where I just exist and take everything in without anxiety about my time coming to an end. Days where I’m not constantly thinking about the next farewell I have to say. So this is me, with around a month and a half still left to go, formally saying a bittersweet goodbye to the House of Brigid blog.
I have dearly loved these periodic reflections, which allow me to take a moment on a Sunday afternoon and process just how lucky I am to be here. I hope that one or two of these posts has helped some of you process things as well.
Until we meet again,
Maddie.
