Wednesday Dreaming

I've got about 5 more days to finish the posts on the week that Beks spent at my house.

I last posted about our Tuesday afternoon photoshoot, which ended with a stir-fry dinner cooked in Andy's honor, an hour of struggling to stay awake through bible study, and a giggly and loud introduction of Andy to the movie Eragon. Which we never actually finished.

Wednesday was detox day. As in, Becca and I slept in very late, made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and laid around in our pajamas and sweatpants until late in the afternoon. We basically spent all day falling back in love with Ireland.

Our Ireland.

We reminded ourselves of exactly what made us fall so hard in the first place, and how to maintain that love and that fire through everyday life.

We typed random beaches, cross-streets, pubs and towns into google maps, zoomed all the way in, and gave ourselves a virtual walking tour of different districts of Donegal, Derry City, and Sligo.

There were no smells, no sounds, no rushes of air, no tingling sensations of culture or strangers, but oh, there was a sight to behold. There were dreams to be had. Futures to be made. Heartfelt exclamations of, "Oh, let's eat there for breakfast every saturday morning!" and "Can I please get a job THERE?!" and, "Ohhhh. Look at that."

It was one of the most therapeutic and comforting experiences we've ever had. It was every reassuring gesture that we're not kidding ourselves: this truly is where we're meant to be.

And even though I was exhausted, it put me in a great mindset for work that night.

I collect experiences like I collect seashells. Every seashell, whether only a memory, or a physical possession, moves me. Every experience is laced with a place that owns a small piece of my heart.

Donegal is a place that I have never been to. But it is an experience I have every single day, because it feeds my desires, my dreams, my motivations, my own wild imagination. It is the greatest experience in my collection, because it hasn't happened yet. Even though it really already has.

I'm not sure I can explain it, I just know where it lives. Inside of me.