by Lyra Reyes
I've been here for two weeks and I've felt so much better than I have the past few years. It's odd how quickly I've been accepted into the fold, so to speak. Maybe the people are just friendlier here. Or maybe this is how people really are and I'm just jaded by growing up in a large city.
Right now, I'm sitting at the village pub at 7:00 in the morning, being served a monster-sized breakfast plate by the most beautiful waitress I've ever met. If I wait until lunchtime, Maggie - the waitress and also part owner of the pub - might sing while serving food. It's fun, cozy, and so comforting.
I don't know what made me choose this place. I don't know why I'm staying. Hell, I don't even know why I left. But, right now, for some inexplicable reason, I feel like I'm where I should be.
Just last night -
"Raina!"
Raina looked up from her laptop, blinked, then smiled at the ancient gentleman hobbling toward her.
"Good morning, Mr. Callaghan! I see you're ready for your tea."
"That, I am, fair Raina." Settling on the seat across from Raina, Callaghan smiled up as Maggie set down a huge half-filled mug of steaming tea in front of him. "Ah, thank you, Maggie, my love."
Amused, Raina watched as Callaghan took out a flask from his pocket, opened it, and poured its contents into the mug. Raina knew full well what the flask contained; on her first morning, Callaghan offered her a sip of his tea and her eyes watered at swallowing a mouthful of whiskey along with it.
After finishing taking his first sip, Callaghan looked at Raina, his bright green eyes twinkling. "How was your first ceili, darling?"
"It was wonderful! I haven't eaten or drank or danced so much ever!" Raina closed her laptop and reached for her coffee. Mornings talking with Mr. Callaghan never failed to perk her up. At eighty-three, Callaghan had a sharp mind, a happy disposition, and a harmless love for gossip. Raina thought he was perfect.
"Ah, well, those people like you."
"And I like them too, which is surprising because I'm usually alone in Chicago. It's amazing, really, how I feel much more at home here than I did ever -" Raina paused, blushed at how easy the thought can come out. She felt guilty, and a bit disloyal, to her hometown and her family there. In the two weeks she's left, she has never once called Chicago her home. It's a thought that she has been battling with, careful not to write down believing that doing so would make it much more real, and knowing that if she lingered over it she might not want to come back.
"Now, don't go feeling bad for saying the truth, girl." Callaghan said kindly. "We all have our place in this world. Could be that yours is here."
Sighing, Raina leaned back. "But I don't even know what I'm doing with my life, Mr. Callaghan. I don't know why I'm here or why I left. I don't even know why I chose this place."
"Could be you left because you're not supposed to do there what you're really meant to do." Callaghan took a sip from his mug. "You did say you wanted to write a book."
"Well, that's more like a pipe dream."
"Dream away. Dream with all your heart. Then do it. You young people need to stop thinking so much and just do. You may be young, but time is passing quickly. One day you're thirty-two and in a snap you're close to a hundred. What you do in between, and where you do it, is what matters."
Callaghan lifted his mug and gestured at Raina. "The world needs more storytellers. How else is she to pass on the knowledge of the ages without someone telling it? Your feet and your heart took you here, and rightly so, I believe. Haven't you been able to think more clearly, to write more, and to feel like you are yourself when you arrived here?"
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