Long may the sun keep Shining

A family caravan park in Salthill in County Galway, Ireland was our parent’s choice of holiday destination for a lot of my childhood. It’s probably where I developed my love for the sea, always calming and soothing to me. The smells, the sights, the ice-creams, and of course the many friends won and lost on the beach, won and lost over and over on some days. The best days where when the sun was splitting the trees and we all got to show our knees.

I’m remembering one holiday when I was eleven, all excited about meeting my friends again, not concerned yet about whether it was cool or not to be going on holiday with my parents and brothers. Play fighting on the way down, winding them up being the eldest and the only girl, does not mean the sensible one or the good daughter, I was a cheeky devil. I liked to think I was a poet and penned many a verse on the trip down. Here’s one I remember, I still quite like it today -

Warm Glow

Warm glow of sunset bathing the scene

giving everything a vibrant sheen

steps are lighter

spirits are higher

sunshine inspires

its touch on your face

you want to embrace

in the grass, laze

soaking up the rays

remembering past sunny days

on my visage, its trace

-

Out of the car and I was gone, no I shouted as I ran that I wasn’t unpacking the car, that’s what younger ones were for me being the eldest, had things to do, places to go, and people to see. This year they were both just about old enough that I should be able to get away with no babysitting duties or very little anyway. We had no mobile phones back then, our mobiles in Galway meant our caravans so I couldn’t text or ring everybody with the brilliant news I had arrived. Ran all the way to the games-room and there she was my best friend the one you never got bored with because it was once a year for two weeks of sun, sea and frolics.

Oh, my God, who’s that she’s talking too, and what’s she done to her hair and is that lipstick, I see.

Oh, how gross, she’s giggling and twirling her hair just like we used to slag the older girls over when they were shooing us away every time a boy looked in their direction.

I walk over, a bit put out that she hasn’t run across the room squealing with delight at my arrival, she should have spotted me by now.

“Aoife”

“Susan” and for a moment I see the Aoife I knew and loved big hugs and kisses.

“Hello, Aoife introduce me to your friend”.

I look up to eyes the deepest blue I’ve ever seen, blond curls haphazardly falling to just above his shoulders, and a smile that could melt igloos, I bet he could sell ice to the eskimos too. I can feel Aoife tensing beside me, and me for the first time ever resenting her presence.

“Hi, I’m Susan, what’s your name.”

“Paul and I am delighted to meet you; Aoife never told me she had such a good-looking friend.”

I, I am ashamed to admit, tittered and blushed from my head to my toes, I wasn’t used to these feelings or this attention from a handsome, charming 15-year-old boy, I didn’t even notice that Aoife had stormed off.

We arranged to meet later by the swings of all places and had the most romantic evening of my young life, priorities change as we get old but if they didn’t, probably the most romantic evening of my life ever. Holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes, ice-creams, giggling over everything and nothing.

I met Aoife the next day, and we had the mother of all rows, because she said all I could talk about was Paul, Paul this and Paul that, and I said she was just jealous.

I suppose it’s human nature we get older and replace old friends, with new, and when we are older it’s a lot easier and less heart-wrenching.

Ah, I remember the drama of it all now, but Paul was worth it, I thought so anyway.

One week later, time to go home, and the shame of it now, I was all snots and tears and refusing to go home. I told my parents they were cruel, and they were taking me away from the love of my life, didn’t they remember how being in love felt and couldn’t we stay for just one more week.

I swapped addresses with Paul, and we promised we’d love each other forever and ever and never lose touch. I sent about 5 letters and never heard anything back, not even a reply saying leave me alone, I can’t remember the term back then, but now I suppose you would call it ghosted.

I was devastated for about a week but then realized that there was that cute boy who lived down the road, how fickle, we are, in our youth. I begged my parents for my pocket money earlier I had my eye on a summer dress just perfect for meeting someone new.

I missed Aoife, a lot more, and a lot longer than I ever missed Paul, and to this day remember her fondly, and would love to catch up. I’m sure we’ve both learned friendship is a lot more important than a new love.

I gaze up at the glorious sun and just like in that car have my trusted old notebook and pen yet another poem. I have books full of poems and don’t know what to do with them, like me they sit on the proverbial shelf, still awaiting a permanent home and someone to love them. I start writing and here’s the result -

White clouds floating

streams of dreams

sun above gloating

melting ice creams

sunbathers basking

applying cream

butterflies dancing

partying it seems

Everything appears to be smiling

Long may the sun keep shining –

I like it, going to go in now it’s inspired me, I feel a holiday in mums apartment coming on. Malaga here I come, bliss.