A little tug to remind me

Tonight it rained. Poured. I missed the storm itself, but had the chance to enjoy the after effects while I walked to my car and then drove home from downtown. I realize I am not the only person around who feels positively washed anew after a storm. Far from it, I am sure. Tonight, though, as I watched the sky change colours as dusk overtook the day and the air was cooled by the rain so recently fallen, I was reminded of another place where I felt myself restored and cleansed of all the ills I tended to collect and hide just under the surface. Scotland proved to be a place of rebirth for me, in more ways than one.

In Oban I exposed my true self without first determining if it was safe to do so. My soul, never accustomed to this baring, took a chance and was rewarded with friendship and acceptance.


In Skye I let go of my demons and released those pains I had been clutching on to for so long, thinking that in keeping them close I was making myself a stronger person. I also made a wish for the future, one that showed I could still have hope.


In Inverness I laid aside most of my insecurities and dove in where before I would have been afraid to tread.


In Fort William I said goodnight and goodbye to me twenties and ushered in my thirties with a welcoming kiss.



In Pitlochry I gave a piece of my heart because it was asked of me and because I realized, after so long, it was truly mine to give. It was there, too, that I discovered my wish to the fairies in the enchanted glen came true, word for word. That in retrospect, the whole trip was part of that fulfillment.


In Edinburgh I left that same piece of my heart. It no longer belonged to me, anyways. There is still a slight tug when I think of it. But with that sensation comes a smile, always.