Stubborn dog.

Well, I’ve moved out, or moved in depending on how you look at it.

It’s new and exciting and my room feels like home, I stay up late taking to Ro, We’ve already throw a party but I miss my Mom. I am so used to the little thing, reading the Sunday Times in bed together, Having to call her a million times from the top of the stairs when looking for something. Helping her unpack the groceries and us both sitting down to eat something only just after putting things in the freezer.

I miss my Dad too, the way he used to wake me up at 5am every morning coming home from work. How he would come in and sneak me a bar of chocolate if I was feeling down. I miss how he used to be singing downstairs and I would join in from my room and we’d sing song after song until Mom would scream at us to shut up. I miss the stupid way he ruffles my hair that makes me smile when I’m happy but makes me sob when I’m down.

I miss my little brother and how he always goes looking for his pssport when he is drunk. I miss fighting over the tv remote and watching stupid shows just to annoy him. I miss him calling into me telling me what drama him and his friends encountered while they were out.

I even miss the dog, how he climbs up on to my lap and stays there just to get warm.

I called over on Sunday evening and it was different, it felt different. My room was no longer my room, the bare walls looked lonely and while I did sit and read the times with Mom on the couch it wasn’t the same. The dog didn’t come near me and it begane to feel very real. Things are changing and I have to move with it or I’ll get left behind.

Roast Potatoes on a Sunday

I usually wake at about noon, Dad will have already left for golf and my Mom will be downstairs drinking tea and having some fresh brown bread with marmalade. It takes me ages to wake up so I tend to reach down for my laptop and turn it on and read some blogs, forums and chat with a friend. By the time I get up and go downstairs Dad will be back, telling Mom all the news from the golf course that morning, my brother will fill us in on what happened when he went out the night before and Mom will tell us what she got up to, depending on her weekend schedule. We’ll all sit into the one room chatting and giving out to the dogs who try to take our seats.

At around 3 or so, Mom will serve dinner, it’ll nearly always be roast potatoes for a Sunday. We’ll stay squashed on the same couch eating dinner and arguing over what to watch on tv. As the day passes Dad will fall asleep in front of the tv and Mom will go into the other room and read. My brother will venue off for the afternoon and I will go meet some friends. Whatever time I’ll get home at, I’ll call into Mom’s room to tell her that I am home and safe, She’ll turn to face me so I’ll crawl into bed next to her and tell her all about who I met and where I was. I’ll get distracted by the Sunday Times magazines and stop talking and read to her. We’ll talk for an hour or so and I’ll have to go to bed myself, so I’ll get changed. I’ll call back into her because as always I’ll have forgotten to tell her something. She’ll be asleep, glasses perched on nose, lamp still on and the newspaper lying on her chest. Softly sleeping, she’ll have stayed awake for me to come home and talk to her.

It is nearly 2.30pm and I have gone back to bed, I have already been down to see Mom eating her bread and marmalade, I am afraid to stay downstairs for fear of crying, I’m not sure I can go through our usual Sunday routine knowing it is my last Sunday at home.

Fighting for Friendships

I always think that friendships are funny. How they start and how they sustain. What makes a good friend and how do some people stay friends and some people don’t? Rachel was like a second half as it were. We met at secondary school when we were 11. She was pretty and popular, I was the opposite. I had friends in school but I was bullied for the first few years. I  remember telling her that her new hair cut was nice back in 1st year. She looked me up and down and made a face and mumbled thanks. I used to remind her of this all the time. It made her cringe and it made me laugh. By 3rd yr we had become friends, forced together through after school study, we soon became passing notes and bonding through crushes and the secrets we knew from different circles. Soon we became inseparable. Always sitting together in class and through lunch. She’d study hard and I’d start planning my life, lists of countries I wanted to see, people I wanted to meet, hair colours I wanted to try. I was always making lists and she was always studying.  My mother thought we were too close, holding hands and sleeping in the same bed went on for years.  There was kissing for a while, when were about 16 or so, that was on and off dependant on what was going on in our lives. Kissing seemed very natural, we certainly didn’t feel like lesbians, it just seemed to be another expression of what we felt for each other and how clsoe we were. Boyfriends came and went and we were always there to pick up the pieces. Hours of Dawson’s Creeks, yards of knitting and litres of ice-cream helped to mend the wounds and meant days of talking while cuddled up together. Sometimes I would wake up and she’d be next to me, she’d have gotten up in the middle of the night and driven over to me, sometimes she’d arrive drunk from town, either way she’d let herself in, steal a t-shirt , climb over me tell me she loved me and fall asleep. Dad used to knock before he’d enter the room, afraid of what he might see, this always made us laugh. We are just friends I’d reassure him of no lesbian activity in his house. The thing is, it did sometimes feel like we were in a relationship. Aside from the kissing that went on as kids and the random drunken kissing that happened every now and then. We were not in a relationship. Through the years we fell out over silly things, hurt pride and hurt feelings but we always came back together, a little bruised but always forgiving. I didn’t chose to pull away, it just happened naturally. I guess I ran out of things to talk to her about. Without even realising it we had taken different paths, we had started to change and we forgot to tell one another. At the end of July she said we couldn’t be friends anymore, that I wasn’t putting in enough effort and that it was all my fault anyway for hurting her feelings af ew years back, she never recovered she said. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that I didn’t want a life without her, but I wasn’t willing to fight for her. She wanted me to fight, fight for our friendship. She wanted me to tell her outloud that I couldn’t and wouldn’t let her walk away but just like a relationship sometimes feels like its nearing the end, this too felt like it was coming to a close. 9 years we were best friends.

Since coming back from holidays, my bed does seem a little bigger than I remember it, there is no one to sit and watch me knit and I have no one to make toast for.

I didn’t fight for her and now she is gone.

Time Difference, Life Difference

It’s past midnight here, meaning it is dark, it’s getting chilly and I am alone in my single bed.

Out there, 10,414 kms away it is just past dawn. In my minds eye I can see the fishermen perched silently on a rock awaiting the pull on their old wooden fishing rods. I can see the old man, a westerner, with skin so brown it reminds me of my Dad’s old leather shoes. He is running steadily past me, he doens’t stop to rest he just keeps going. He reminds me of Forrest Gump and I want to talk to him, I want to hear his story. How long has he been here, why is he here and how does he run in this dead heat. I never did get to talk to him but I imagine he is stored in my memory banks now. A conversation I never had that I will regret not having the courage to start.

Every morning before they woke, I watched the sunrise. I had trained myself to get up and watch it. Some mornings it was cloudy, some mornings I sat on the swing and sang to myself, other mornings I just listened to the world around me waking up. There was one morning I cried, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it was just seconds past 6am when the sun started her journey. She appeared small and bright on the horizon, slowly at first like a ballerina stretching her arms. Before I knew it, I was staring at a large fire ball. The most beautiful orange I had ever seen. The world as we know it isn’t always the way it is and sometimes we don’t even realise how fast time is passing us by. I knew that we would be home in a few days and that life would return to normal, but sitting there with my toes in the soft sand. I could feel myself getting angry that I had been wasting time. I needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life but I didn’t want to be anywhere but here and I didn’t want to think about anything from the past or anything from the future, I let my mind settle and I started to cry.

After some time I went back inside, it was just past 6am, it was getting warm and I was alone in a double bed.

Footprints in the Sand.

I wanted to go for dinner but she said she wasn’t that hungry. I continued driving until we got to the beach. The sun was setting and there was no one around so we let the dog loose. We walked in the shallow water until we reached the end and we turned back. I sat for a while on the sand and she ventured off by herself with the dog, down by the rocks. I waited for her to come back and listened to the crashing waves. It was getting dull but I could see the worry in her face, her dark hair blowing in the wind, couldn’t mask the tears in her eyes. I didn’t want to ask and it didn’t look like she was going to tell me. A troubled soul all her life, I knew when to ask and when to leave it go. She sat down next to me and faked a smile.

I waited.

She turned to me and cuddled into herself. “I have started to have flashbacks” she said. “From when I was a child, I can’t figure out if they are real or if it my imagination running wild. My father is in my room and he is naked.” The tears came more steadily now and I took her hand in mine. I held it tight and didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say. She continued talking, telling me nippets of memories she was reacalling.

When she couldn’t talk anymore we sat a while, close together and crying. The sun had set and the dog was restless. We walked the rest of the beach holding hands, leaving only our footprints in the damp sand, the tide would wash away the footprints but it would not be able to wash away the weight on her heart or the pain in my stomach. We drove home in silence.

Soundtrack of my memories

Music can capture your heart, make you cry, make you smile and make you remember memories you thought you had forgotten about.

Michael Jackson passed away yesterday and MTV along with every other music channel has his songs on repeat. Each song has a memory wrapped around it. The earliest being in 1988 when I was 4 and he came to Cork to play. I can remember my Dad holding my hand as we walked down the Marina. Hundreds of people lined up and the air smelled of chips and vinegar. We sat on a path and ate candyfloss while listening to the legend himself singing in our city.

Dangerous was the first tape I ever own and I wanted so badly to be one of the kids singing on the “Heal the World” record. When “Free Willy” came out, I already knew the words to the soundtrack and I was the coolest kid in school because of it, funny how that means nothing now!

A few years back, I bought Liam the Number1′s  Album and we danced around the kitchen for hours one summer evening. Whatever about Michael Jackson and the allegations that surrounding him, I will remember him for being a part of the soundtrack of my life.

Leaving Cert Memories

My brother is sitting his Leaving Cert at the moment, you wouldn’t know it though. Out house is still as noisy as ever, the desk for studying hasn’t been used and the only difference is my Dad’s stress levels have gone up. It reminds back to 6 years ago when I did mine, phone calls from friends freaking out and call from relatives to wish me good luck. Mom eventually got sick of the phone and took me out driving to look at new houses, This was more to calm her down than to calm me down. I was fine, I didn’t do a tap of study so I knew I was in trouble before I began. The thing is even if I had studies it wouldn’t have sunk in. I only remember things I am interested in and when I do remember something it’s something I think I’ll need or will be relevant. Even now, I can’t recall a Maths formula or a poem as Gaeilge. I didn’t think I needed them. A few nights ago I could hear my brother reciting Maths formulas in his sleep.  I felt sorry for him, they were stealing the day and now they were stealing the night too. Anyway, it’s nearly all over for him and my flash backs to the exams can stop. Thank God!

Summer 2002

Sometimes when I feel lonely, I take out some letters I got in the summer of 2002. They are old and crinkled from being read so much, they are slightly torn at the edges and the ink has faded on the envelopes so I can’t see what date they were posted.  They make me laugh, the make me cry but mostly they remind me what its like to be a teenager. The things we say and do, we don’t always mean.

In the June of 2002 I went on my last family holiday. I met two guys there, who were also on holidays with their families. I was never great for family holidays so I wasted no time introducing myself to others at the pool. Before I knew it, I had two friends. The kind of friends I thought I would have for life. Due to them both being male, I knew feelings would eventually appear from the summer haze.  The Wexford lad made his feelings known and I was happy to be with him. We spent a week in couple mode and Bobby always came with us. We went swimming in our clothes, we chatted to strangers on the beach and we talked about the things we would do when we all got back home. I was sad when Steven left but after he left, I think it took Bobby about 2 hours to lean in and kiss me. I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was soft and delicate and his lips fitted into mine. I had never felt it before then and it was the fireworks they talk about in the movies. All week we stayed together, we missed Steven but if he was there we wouldn’t have been together. Just like the movies though, it had to end and back home we went.

Little did we all know that the friendships we had formed would survive on Irish soil. I spent my summer going between Wexford and Youghal and what a summer we had. I went between the lads, openly with Steven and lived a secret life with Bobby. I felt awful but live with the guilt. Being young gives you a “act now, think later” attitude and I lived for everyday and everyday I was glowing. We went to parties and BBQs, slept in tents in gardens and stayed up until dawn watching movies. We talked about the future and how we planned to be friends forever. While all good things must come to an end, this summer came to an abrupt halt.

While visiting one day, Steven had discovered our secret due to some diary reading he had teaken upon himself to research. The summer was over and life continued on, it was a boring winter and I missed them. It was my own fault so I got up and carried on. About a year later, I got a letter in the post, postmarked from Youghal. It was from Bobby, saying he was the one who had told Steven and he had felt guilty all this time. It read “I’ve marked it down to a whole year now. I’ve loved you all this time and you didn’t know. I can’t forget about you” I can remember reading it a thousand times over. While I hadn’t forgotten them, I had assumed all bets were off and we had gone our separate ways. I never wrote back, what would I say.

Looking back tonight, the letters did make me smile. Some where filled with news and ideas for future trips of fun things we could do together, others filled with lovers words and crushes kisses. I loved those boys more than anything. We were like the three musketeers and we thought we’d be friends forever. We were wrong.

Aeroboard Violin

When I was 4 I learned to play violin. My teachers name was Consuela, which at the time I thought was a magical name.

She had interesting way of teaching violin, she made violins out of aeroboard and gave me a tick. I had this violin for nearly a year. I was taught how to hold it, care for it and we practised songs on it. (I do realise I am holding the violin wrong, but I’d like to point out this was my first night having it!) Not than any sounds came out mind you. I have one photo of my violin, Consuela moved to Ameria not long after.

 

The annoying girl with the camera.

I was always the annoying girl with the camera in school. I had it on school trips, days away and sometimes I’d just have it with me. I was annoying, no doubt about it. I had this notion stuck in my head that I would make our school yearbook. I spent 6 years taking photos of everyone and getting abuse for it. I did make the yearbook in the end though and I was very proud of it.

Today I brought a little of our yearbook to facebook and I uploaded some school photos. I wasn’t sure if I would be inundated with requests to delete them due to bad hair, bad clothes or just bad memories. Thankfully I wasn’t and when I returned a few hours later, my mailbox was filled with comments on how young we all look and what fun we had.

Kyle was online at the same time and said it was strange to see me looking so young and different. I don’t even know Kyle a year yet so most of my stories are filled with the names of people he doesn’t know and will never meet. I had to agree with him that sometimes people you meet tend to just “start” in your head when you meet them. (Does that make sense?) They didn’t exist before in your world. While I know Kyle (and other new friends I have) existed, I too have found it strange looking at photos of them from a time when I didn’t know them

It made me sad to think about it because when those photos were taken,we all thought we’d be friends for life. Just like everything else, time moves on and so do the people around you. The friends I have no, I want to keep for life and if you told me they wouldn’t be around, I’m not too sure how I’d feel. I’d feel pretty darn lost that’s for sure. I guess no matter what happens, with any set of friends, you’ll always be left with the memories.

I came across this quote on postsecret.com a few weeks back…

“I don’t like pictures because they are painful memories of friendships that no longer exist”

As much as I want the friends I have now, to be my friends for life, I hope any photos I find years from now, will only be filled with the kind of memories that make me smile until my cheeks hurt.