Lately A and I have been playing a little game we like to call “remember when…?”. It’s our way of reminding each other of all the horrific, embarrassing, and love-filled memories we have made over the past decade. Versions of some of our memories I’ve retold on this blog, but to be honest, most of the memories were so minute, so insignificant shared by two humans bonded by time and place. There is nothing magical, nothing special, nothing extraordinary about any of our memories, and yet we guard them like little secrets only we know. These very moments, no matter how small, are the foundation of our love story, they’re the essence of a life we chose, a life we built for ourselves.

We are no different than any other pair of complete strangers, we were just very lucky to have met each other, lucky to have danced together that first night, lucky to have liked each other. In many ways, our story is like driftwood, in a sea of endless opportunities, there is a piece of wood battered by wind, rain, waves, being pulled into every direction and still barely floating. That’s what life feels like on the best of days.

But then, eventually you come to a resting place, where you either disappear into the nothingness of the deep blue, or you wash ashore and you may just shatter into a million pieces. A and I have gone through many of such days, were without meaning to, we broke each other in so many ways. It wasn’t that we meant to hurt each other, it’s just that sometimes you are so helpless, that you grab onto anything and everything and in doing so you just destroy everything like an elephant in a porcelain shop. And sometimes, sadly, you may be left with a pile of broken pieces and a lot of cuts and bruises along the way.

Thankfully, I like puzzles and I am very patient on top of things, so I have no issue with sitting in front of a pile of shattered driftwood, trying to glue together whatever pieces may fit together. And the beauty of driftwood is, that its original beauty and shape have faded a long time ago, so whatever shape you may desire, that’s what it’ll be. And when you find someone you love, putting together the broken pieces just becomes so much easier.

I still wonder along shores in awe of all the driftwood, always wondering what it once was and what it’ll be in the future and if it’ll be anything, really. It’s a reminder that things will not always go as smoothly as you’d like them to, but life still can be amazing and beautiful and glamorous and more than you ever imagined possible.

So, next time you’re in a tough spot, give yourself a break. Maybe break some of your own driftwood edges, and let them float alongside you. Life’s unpredictable, and it’s rough, and there is so many ups and downs, and so much rain, and so much craziness, and among all the difficult spots, there will be many bright moments, and they will all be worth it. Not a day goes by, when I don’t remind A of horrible things that have happened on our crazy adventures together, and then we laugh until we cry and we cry until we laugh. Somehow we made it so far, and while we both have a few things we’d rather not recall, it’s part of our story, part of how we got to where we are now. Every little bit of our journey is part of how we were able to get from coast to coast, through rough weather, endless rain, stomach churning swells, and bountiful sunshine. Somehow, without even realizing it, we were able to use driftwood to make a perfect home for a bird and a fish.

My dirftwood home at Cork harbour

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