Holiday Romance
A family caravan park in Salthill in County Galway, Ireland was our parent’s choice of holiday destination for a lot of my childhood. It’s probably where I developed my love for the sea, always calming and soothing to me. The smells, the sights, the ice creams, and of course the many friends won and lost on the beach, won, and lost over and over on some days.
I’m remembering one holiday when I was eleven, all excited about meeting my friends again, not concerned yet about whether it was cool or not to be going on holiday with my parents and brothers. Play fighting on the way down, winding them up being the eldest and the only girl, does not mean the sensible one or the good daughter, I was a cheeky devil.
Out of the car and gone, no I wasn’t unpacking the car, that’s what younger ones were for me being the eldest, had things to do, places to go, and people to see and this year they were both just about old enough that I should be able to get away with no babysitting duties or very little anyway.
No mobile phones back then, our mobiles in Galway meant our caravans so I couldn’t text or ring everybody with the brilliant news I had arrived.
Ran to the games room and there she was my best friend the one you never got bored with because it was once a year for two weeks of sun, sea, and frolic.
Oh, my God, who’s that she’s talking to, and what’s she did to her hair and is that lipstick, I see.
Uuugh, she’s giggling and twirling her hair just like we used to slag the older girls over when they were shooing us away every time a boy looked in their direction.
I walk over, a bit put out that she hasn’t run across the room squealing with delight at my arrival, she should have spotted me by now.
“Gráinne”
“Susan” and for a moment I see the Gráinne I knew and loved big hugs and kisses.
“Hello, Gráinne introduce me to your friend”.
I look up to eyes the deepest blue I’ve ever seen, blond curls haphazardly falling to just above his shoulders, and a smile that could melt igloos, I bet he could sell ice to them too. I can feel Gráinne tensing beside me, and I for the first time resent her presence.
“Hi, I’m Susan, what’s your name.”
“Paul and I am delighted to meet you; Gráinne never told me she had such a good-looking friend”.
I tittered and blushed from my head to my toes, I wasn’t used to these feelings or this attention from a handsome, charming 15-year-old boy, I didn’t even notice that Gráinne had stormed off in a huff.
Paul and I arranged to meet later by the swings of all places and had the most romantic evening of my young life, actually if priorities didn’t change as we age, probably the most romantic evening ever. Holding hands, gazing into each other’s eyes, ice-creams, giggling over everything and nothing.
Met Gráinne the next day, and had the mother of all rows, because she said all I could talk about was Paul, and I said she was jealous. I suppose it’s human nature we get older and replace old friends, with new ones, and when we're older it’s a lot easier and less heart-wrenching.
Ah, I remember the drama of it all now, but Paul was worth it.
One week later, time to go home, and the shame of it now, I was all snots and tears and refusing to go home. They were taking me away from the love of my life, couldn’t we stay just one more week?
Swapped addresses with Paul and promised we’d love each other forever and ever and never lose touch. I sent about five letters and never heard anything back.
I was devastated for about a week but then realized that there was that cute boy who lived down the road, how fickle, we are, in our youth.
I missed Gráinne, a lot more, and a lot longer than I ever missed Paul, and to this day remember her fondly, and would love to catch up. I hope we have both learned friendship is a lot more important than a new love.
