Ah, I remember me

Of all places, I ran into him again at the train station in Dublin. I thought I had been catching glimpses of him, hiding behind trees and fences, ducking behind a parked bus here and there, but this time he came out in full view.
I stepped off the train in Heuston Station and took a full breath of that strange, train station air, and he stepped right up to greet me.

“Hello again.”

“Hello. Been a long time. Where’ve you been?”

“You’re not an easy man to reach. Routine and responsibility…you have a secretary that keeps you on schedule you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So….where ya’ staying tonight?”

I looked around the unfamiliar station, taking in the sights of crowds of strangers moving through the filtered light coming from the skylights overhead. I listened to the soft murmur of conversation and the echoing hiss which ebbed and flowed through that cavern of concrete and brick. My eyes swept over the signs which read in English and in Gaelic, and tried to figure out which direction to go to find the front entrance of the station.

Outside that station was an unfamiliar city. My friends and I had a minimalist plan. Find a place to stay, find a place to eat, get some sleep then find the airport and a flight out to Scotland.

We had no advanced bookings in this city, no reservations, not even a map or a tourist guide. Just the thrill of the adventure and the hunt. Just the wonder of discovery along the way, with the results left to unfold on their own, not dictated and predetermined.

“Don’t know where we’re staying,” I looked at him and winked, “aint it cool?”

“It’s about time.” He said, his face lit with a smile that stretched his face. He put out his hand for me to take. I reached out, but paused as I looked back at him.

“I’ve missed you, I really have.” I said, and took The Wanderer’s hand as we went off in search of the front door.


Yeah. It was a good trip, all in all.