It resides up on the Northern Coast in my favorite town Newcastle. I suppose there's no particularly obvious reason why I should like Newcastle more than any other town around that area.
To other people, they would think it's just like the others. Coastal, quaint, a chippie, a Maud's, and hiking trails.
To me, that place is full of just such a good memory.
When I came here two years ago with the Family and Human Services team (I was the only minor with 18 majors. It was painfully obvious when it came to feely-talks), we took a day trip to Newcastle and on that trip, starting with a very carsick busride, I got to know Madison Blakeley (now Stewart).
I'll get back to Maddie dear, but I want to make a general statement. While I was there, and even in the direct months after coming home, I didn't see a "point" to my trip. It was fun, but no tangible growth was present, I didn't think. In the two years since coming back, though, I have seen more fruit from that one month than I could have possible imagined.
Not only is is the ultimate reason why I am physically where I am, but it also gave me three of my most treasured friendships, a lot of good introspection, and forced me to read a few books that I really enjoyed and like having in my memory stores.
That to say, things that seem a mere playful trifle now may prove to have lasting influence.
She and I got to talking and discovered our mutual upbringing in the Assemblies of God church (a HUGE deal to find in common) and other personality and communication similarities.
When we got off the bus, we just kinda stuck together, trailed behind the group, and enjoyed the town on our own pace without the energy level of our classmates.
We spent the whole of the afternoon alone, getting ice cream (that spectacular sundae is called a KnickerBocker, and no, I have have no clue what was in it. But I can tell you it was churned with love and heaven), getting chased and creeped on by a local, walking barefoot on the shoreline, and plunking down on some spongy grass. It was the perfect day.
No matter what memories are made there after that, it serves as my core memory and not the comparison. It cannot be compared or tarnished in any way.
The Kanukuk group and I returned to Newcastle twice. The first time, we got a wee lunch and ice cream (Poor Bear honeycomb from Maud's. A local best and must-have). The second time to climb Slieve Donnard.
Words to describe that experience: exhausting, hilarious, beautiful, windy.
The wind.
Seriously.
The wind.
At one point, I was literally thrown on the rocks in front of me it was so strong. I now have new appreciation for the Irish blessing, "May the road rise to meet you; may the wind be always at your back."
Our 64 year old bus driver was smoking all of us by half a mile and runners made it up and back down again before we'd even made half our journey.
You don't talk much when you climb. You don't think much when you climb.
Mostly, you climb.
And try to breathe.
And take off layers and put layers back on without getting them and you thrown off the edge by the wind.
And climb.
This was the second of the two final activities which I required coercion to participate in by my friends who refused to let me antisocialize myself, but I'm very glad I did it.
As my Grandma Ruth would say, good or bad, "We're making memories!"
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