Oh the smell of a Saturday is intoxicating, throwing open the window and sucking in the lush heady scent early in the morning is an absolute assault on the senses when it’s the day after the rain. It smells of promise, it smells of fun and laughter, it smells of clean washing, it smells of contentment.
Through the silence of calm, sounds of birds, tyres of cars still slick against wet roads, the sound of a community awakening after a deep two-day slumber forced upon them by Mother Nature (us Irish do love to talk about the weather…!).
Light is blinding on a morning like today’s, every surface is clear reflection of strong sunshine before the wetness evaporates off - even the grass glares back at you, making you avert your eyes from its freshly washed nakedness.
Finally the feelings come, feet tip-toe through soft yielding soil as we wander our way through worn tracks and trails, dodging worms and slugs and snails making the most of the moisture while it lasts.
I’m taken aback by a soft growl on my way home. A weathered face deeply etched with lines of pure exertion a reflection of the rugged landscape in which we live is now opposite me growling a good morning. I was so lost in my own world I hadn’t heard him catch up to me, my senses already overwhelmed to the point it let nothing else in. “Good morning”, I reply. I’m surprised by his presence, all he ever seems to do is work yet here he is in worn walking boots that have certainly seen as many tracks as my own.
I’m not sure how, but he’s suddenly lulled me into a sense of safety, the low calm rumble of his gravelly voice chatting about the weather of the week ahead and the evenings drawing in soothing the insecurities I had about this beast of a man - you know the type, silent, all brawn, seldom seen or known to engage in pleasantries or the renowned circumlocution of the Irish.
He meets my silent observations with his own, clearly lost in thought himself absorbing the overloaded senses the calm after the storm has to offer. A loud wave from the sea below us brings us both back to our senses and I start to say goodbye and go to move off. His hand stops me as I turn, it takes me by surprise that I hadn’t realised how close together we were standing. He asks rather sheepishly if I’m ok and I don’t know what to say, so he follows with his observation that I’ve been absent from my usual tracks of late taking to the quieter less used ones. I’m shocked, clearly shown on my face as he starts to apologise. How had I not noticed him walking before?
“I was just worried about you, I hadn’t seen you for a while and I thought maybe something was wrong.” Every hair on my body is standing on end, every sense screaming at me to leave, to run, to get out of there. The panic must have shown, his hand dropped and his eyes fell, a hit red flash on his skin showed his embarrassment. He took a step backwards, and then “I’m sorry if I’ve scared you. It’s just you’re the only company I seem to have and you disappeared.” I released the breath I didn’t realise I was holding, my lungs aching and screaming for another. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you walking before today.” His eyes come up, they search my face, a look of concern passes through his own in response to whatever he’s seeing in my own. “I know, you’ve been lost in your own world for a while now.” I don’t know quite what to say. Then “Would you mind if I walk with you?”
And that, dear people, is how I’ve ended up with a walking buddy. We walked on in silence for the most part, just two people enjoying nature, stopping every now and then to just breathe the salty air and let it all soak in.
MLP
