I Miss The Life I Used To Live
There are mornings I wake up dreaming about my sweet, sweet memories, leading me to wonder why they are now just memories alone.
It is spring. I sit by the seaside, delicately tracing my fingers over seashells while watching seagulls dip to stride the tops of ocean waves. I close my eyes, hearing the train pass by and wondering about the stories traveling with it, remembering how much I once prayed for a life like this.
And then my eyes soon open to the light seeping in through my bedroom window from the morning sunrise. I awake, but not yet from the dream of the life I used to live. I almost become teary-eyed remembering how still and full of purpose my story was there — in the place I miss more than I am able to say.
When I was 18 years old, I moved across the world to chase a dream I never thought would become real. I created a new life in a new place — a place laced with emerald green mountaintops and mossy, magical forests. I fell in love with the person this place made me — a more adventurous, kinder, and a more humble young girl.
Ireland was everything I prayed it would be and more. I went there searching for hope, looking to find the faith my heart needed to continue on. I’m happy to say I found it in still woodland walks with lovely fawn, sparkling fern, and serene waterfall serenades. I found a purpose again. And I will forevermore remember the joy it planted in my heart that was simply yearning for more love and grace.
Some days, I miss the life I used to live. There are mornings I wake up dreaming about my sweet, sweet memories, leading me to wonder why they are now just memories alone. And yes, there are times I become emotional at the thought that this part of me isn’t what it used to be.
This doesn’t mean I am not thankful for the life I have now, the place where I grew up and left a piece of my heart whenever I left, because my gratitude for my home is truer than it has ever been. And I trust that the desire to return here was rooted in promise that I still may not yet see, but honor is meant to be part of my story.
Yet there is something telling me that I am not done with Ireland just yet. I have this hope that I will be called back there, someday and some way, to continue falling in love with the land that gifted me what I needed most when I needed it the most.
I may miss it, but I trust I will return there in the most perfect timing — when my heart seeks renewal once again in the loveliest place I have ever been.
