Ireland

Everyone has a place that doesn't necessarily belong to him, but makes him feel
something greater than himself. That place creates a state of mind where he feels
comfortable, fostering a safe haven that he can call his own. For me, that place is
only a short walk from home, and I call that place “Ireland.” It is the place I run to
when I feel down, and the place I’ve had some of my best memories. Ireland is the
place where I go to feel whole, drawing strength from its life, beauty and charm.
The first time I visited “Ireland” was on a cold, winter day. I was on a walk with a
girl I had been dating for a while. As we walked, we came across what appeared to
be an old, run-down train station. Curious about the place, we decided to walk over
and check it out. The building was rectangular and sided with aged, wooden
shingles. Each shingle had a few scrapes and chipped out pieces, each telling stories
of storms and other weather it had endured during its long life. There were also
four windows set out evenly across the front of the building with two doors set
precisely between them. A few old benches were scattered alongside the wall of the
building and some small flowerpots here and there. The back of the building looked much like the front. The only difference was the large green sign
that read “Annville” in big white letters, hung above the center window. The roof
was an average rooftop with a few small gables; it covered the uppermost part of the
building and was composed of red roofing shingles with a small brick chimney bursting up from the top left hand side. Anyone could tell that this was at one time
or another a heavily-used train station. If you looked inside the windows you could
see old telephones, newspapers, and various piles of junk scattered around the
rooms. It was a thought-provoking and interesting collection of useless objects.

We found a decent-looking bench along the back wall and decided
this would be a great place to sit and talk for a while. However, as we sat and held
each other close, we didn’t say a single word; we let the world around us do the
talking. We looked and saw endless, rolling hills with a fair amount of trees settled
on the crest. On one of the hills there was a spectacular farmhouse that had a red
roof and a white foundation. Next to it was a large barn, also painted white but with
a black rooftop. A white fence marked the perimeter of the property, with a gate in
the middle for the driveway. Within the fence there were horses roaming around
their pen. Every now and then one would begin to run and the others would
follow, together becoming a stampede of wonderfully powerful horses.


Right behind the train station sat a railroad line, which is still used quite heavily
to this day. We watched and listened as the trains passed us by. The shrill and
powerful sound of their horns shook us and held us without release until they finally
decided to move along. Their sound fit their physical presence very well. They were
intimidating, giant bullets that flew across the tracks, threatening certain death to
anyone or anything that got in their way. As they passed they left an echo of
large wheels clanking and screeching as they rolled along their way, wheel after
wheel, cart after cart, down the tracks and out of sight.


We heard the constant wind, whispering secrets to anybody who would stop
and listen for a while. The leaves rustled, some on the ground, and some left
in the almost naked trees. Together, we enjoyed natures song, a symphony of
wonderful and powerful music. The sound and landscape were unlike anything we
had ever heard; or, maybe, perhaps this was the first time we had actually listened.


As the seasons changed, we continued to revisit Ireland day after day.
Each season brought something new to the soundscape and the landscape.
Spring brought brighter and warmer days; it gave me the feeling of new life after
such a cold winter. The trees began to blossom and the songbirds began to
sing their songs of nonsense and joy.

Summer brought youth and laughter to Ireland. The days got warmer and
the sounds grew stronger. In the distance you could hear farming machines or
children laughing and playing games. The fields, trees, and flowers were alive once
again. The lush green of the fields matched the green of the grass almost perfectly
and created a landscape more beautiful than any I have seen since or before then.


"Ireland" ultimately takes me to a rejuvenating state of mind where I can clear
my thoughts and focus on the world that lays in front of me. I can let the sounds and
sights wash over me and cleanse my mind and soul. It is my fountain of youth, so to
speak. When I need a break, or when life seems like too much, I can always return to
“Ireland” and forget everything all over again.