Back to reality

Then the cock, he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill -Spancil Hill, The Dubliners

So this is it, back to where it all started. Back in that damned town I escaped three years ago. I find myself at the familiar gate, one suitcase in hand, wearing my Trinity jumper despite the summer heat. Well, time to get in.

I ring at my parents’ door. They open. We exchange the normal niceties. “How was your trip”, “Fine, cheers”, “Why is your hair so messy”.

The melody of home. Time to unpack and relax a bit. It all feels so weird.

My bedroom has now become the family storage place, or so it looks. Various piles of papers, magazines, grocery bills all over my desk. I notice an unfinished knitting project, some shopping bags. Books, lots of it. My bed looks tiny in that chaos. I feel like I’ve outgrown it. Sure, I was there last Christmas but this time it’s different. I’m a fresh graduate. I’ve lived a different life in a different city. I should not be here. I should be back in Dublin, about to head out to Fibber Magees and see where the night takes me. But here I am, in my parent’s gaff.

“Come and put on the table, please”. Argh I forgot they eat so early. I will be hard to adapt again, all these rules and habits.

Well, they got the nice Champagne out for my return it seems. Nicer than the usual cheap sparkling wine. I’ll drink to that, cheers! What a lovely change. Perhaps it will be fine to be here after all. Hopefully not for too long. Dinner was not bad, neither. Better than my usual attempt at healthy rice with Lidl frozen veggies.

Time to head out to the bar and meet with my old friends. There is something quite comforting in walking the old route on that gorgous summer evening; it’s fresher now, less stifling. I feel a bit lighter. Perhaps it’s the Champagne.

Leela is her good old self. So funny. Daisie seems a bit snappy. Did I say something wrong? Or not stayed in touch enough? I might have overdone it complaining about being back from Dublin. She hasn’t left. Maybe she thinks I think I’m somehow superior to her for that. Well, I’ll mind my words.

This is such a gorgeous summer evening. Yes, it has that little unexplained grey undertone. My heart pinches a bit. Can’t put my finger on the feeling exactly. I can’t miss Dublin so much yet. And I’m not here forever - yet there is that inexplicable longing for the self I left there.

I’ll walk a bit more to keep the emotions at bay.

The path is slightly rockier and more overgrown than I thought - I really must have been in a Champagne haze when I walked to the bar. Well, I’ve got nothing against a bit of wilderness. Good for the bees and the likes. Maybe this town needs a little less order. I’ll talk to my parents about that at breakfast tomorrow, they’ll surely have some thoughts about it.

Speaking of, now I realise, weren’t they a bit snappy as well? Or am I overthinking? I guess they are not the happiest I’m back and have not found a job yet, after all the money spent on the studies. So back at the door, it all so calm here. The garden looks asleep somehow; the grass is cut so low.

“Ma, Da, I’m back! Well, I’ve got to tell you, Daisie Murray was in some kind of mood today.” No answer. Weird. They are usually here in the evening. Perhaps they’ve got new habits as well and did not tell me. What could it be? Pub quiz? Dancing classes? That would be funny. I’d like to see that. Now let’s see if there is some of that gorgeous bubbly left.

It’s a little flat and too sweet now. I’m surprised they didn’t put it back in the fridge with the spoon in the bottle - didn’t my Da teach me this trick?

I forgot how fresh the nights can get here. I need another plaid to wrap myself in, but I’m also too comfortable on the sofa. It is eerie quiet though. Not used to that any more. But let’s see that as an advantage. After all I did complain lots about the noisiness of my flatmate and the city in general. Got to know what I want.

Mmh, the TV sound doesn’t seem to work. It would be great to have a little background noise, though. They might have a new sound system thing and I can’t really figure it out. Would not surprise me, doing fancy studies discussing world politics but unable to turn on a TV properly. Typical. I’ll grab a book and read instead.

My parents are really gone for a long time now. Alright, I’ll go to bed then. Or I could wait and stay up until they are back - exchanging roles and playing the worried parent waiting for their teenager to come back from some party. Taking some fancy tone and saying, “Have you seen the time now.” Nah, I’ll leave them be.

It feels a bit like being a burglar in your own home. Entering this bedroom full of stuff that is not mine. Let’s take a closer look at that knitting project I saw earlier. Nice detail work on those letters L…E… A.. And the beginning of what looks like a V. What’s that now, leave? I’m tired. Starting to really overthink it all.

Difficult to fall asleep with all those thoughts. And my bedsheets don’t smell like the lavender laundry my Ma is so fond of. I miss that lovely touch. Can’t think of when I last cleaned my ones in Dublin. Shameful. The pillow is quite plump though.

What is that I hear? Is it the wash? I don’t remember hearing it earlier. Damn, it is quite loud actually. What an idea to have the wash on in the evening. I can’t wait to leave this place. Ah now it is quiet again. I think they are back, sneaky ones. Since when does Ma wear heels?

BEEP BEEP BEEP

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BEEP BEEP BEEP

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Why are they not going to turn off the washing machine?

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BEEP BEEP BEEP

Ok ok I’ll go then. Wait… Why is it still so light out. Oh.

Well, guess I haven’t left Dublin after all. What a way to wake up - My flatmate could have turned off the machine by herself. And ditched those clicky heels!