TUESDAY, AUGUST 6
As we climbed the steep paths behind Lough Hyne, Chloe talked about returning to Vancouver, her concerns and feeling disconnected from friends.
The hills behind Lough Hyne rose steadily, the valley below divided into fields of varying greens. As we climbed higher, the sea appeared.
We tried to console each, remembering what we have in Vancouver — a stable life, a lovely apartment. Chloe has a job she enjoys. She is starting college, and with no pressure to take a full load of classes. Her friends have kept up with her over the year. Still she feels sad.
We reached the top of the Louch Hyne trail.
I was, in ways, forcing Chloe to soldier on. To be like me. I do believe this is a way to survive. But is surviving all we want? Can we use the stability of Vancouver to find a place where it isn’t just about survival but maybe we could thrive, maybe it could be easier, happier. This year, with all its ups and downs, has been a dream. Can life be as good as a lovely dream?
I’m not so sure about soldiering anymore. I would like to leave my soldier behind, bury her in a tiny hole in the mossy soil of Ireland. I feel a deep sadness as I look to the end of our year. A year is a long time, enough time for this way of living to truly become a lifestyle, a habit as comfortable as cuddling up at home.
The narrow trail down the hills eventually met a main road with an B&B and some houses, then wove through hedges that eviscerated the view until we again came upon Lough Hyne. A man who was missing teeth and dressed in worn, dirty clothes, sold farm eggs by our car. I wished we didn’t have eggs at home so we could buy some from him.
What have we learned? What will we take from this? Can we hold onto the happiness and bliss, carry it with us, recreate it over the long term?
