Back to the Island

It took me 48 minutes and 28 seconds to get from my flat to the airport. That’s right, I timed it on my phone. I often moan when I see the price of flights out of Seville’s pokey, yet charming airport but when you have such speedy public transport experiences like the above, it eases the pain.

Today marks my third summer returning to Ireland. Arguably, it’s gotten easier with each trip. While talking to my aunt a few days ago, she remarked how it must be how it is for her when she heads home to Galway to care for my Grandmother. I wholeheartedly agreed with her; with easier packing comes easier travelling.

I don’t really know how to feel travelling home this time around. One thing, I’m leaving behind Siobhan to work in Seville (last year we went together) and look after our recently adopted dog. One part of me beats me up for leaving them, while another tells me the pocket money I earn while over there will be used to treat them both at some point in the future.

I say pocket money because for the first summer since leaving for Spain I find myself in the position of not needing to work, but wanting to. I’ll admit, I rarely do well staying still, and I know eventually I’d drive Siobhan insane with my restlessness. With two months until term starts again in Spain, I needed something to keep me occupied.

Since returning from my school’s summer camp on Sunday, it feels as though someone has hit the fast forward button. We tried to squeeze as much together as possible, and even managed one final lunch and coffee out until mid August at the earliest. ‘Stay as long as work allows you to’, Siobhan said back in June. I’m lucky to have her, but at the same time feel like I shouldn’t stay too long, regardless of money.


And then there’s Aneira. She only had me back after I left her for the week previously. We spent the last few days together. I took her on each morning walk, every afternoon trot around the corner, and once again at night. It was the least I could do. Bless her she was so happy to see me when I returned, not bouncy happy like in those YouTube videos, but happy in a ‘I’m not letting you go again’ sort of way.

I set my alarm for 6am. The room pitch dark from the black out blinds. The air con hummed as I stretched out my back. Clip clip clip. With her dark head, I didn’t see her until she had her head by my legs. A quick yawn and a stretch and her tail was in full flow, and that was before I put my sandals on. That I’ll miss.

I packed my bag as normal, but having a late flight sometimes works against you. I’ve learnt in my short time with Aneira that it’s always best to leave a dog quickly and without fuss. It was only a matter of time before she noticed the purple travel bag, the same bag I had packed for camp 10 days ago. I was expecting a more nervous reaction in the way of panting or lick lipping. Nothing. It was only when I moved them closer to the door.

And so came the time to leave. Here was me hoping to leave her happy with a treat or dentastik like how we normally do. As soon as both of us were in the corridor we had a shadow. Tail and head down, she couldn’t have looked more dejected.

I had to go. The longer I stayed, the worse it would have been. Saying goodbye to Siobhan for the umpteenth time, I closed the door on them, Aneira’s expression unchanged. I bit my lip. Siobhan told me later she had to bribe her to get her away from the door.

I’ll be back soon, bubba. Promise.



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