I may or may not be writing this in blood. Not only is my journal filled to the brim with my inky life from New Years to yesterday, but it's missing its companion, the pen, which I neglected to take with me on my Sunday stroll. I would've at least found a bit of white space to squeeze a few words if I only had a pen. Nonetheless, here I am, a top the bustling enchanted Fairy Castle and listening to a middle-aged woman complain about the dogs roaming the grounds without leads.
She is soon replaced by a young couple who whisper about where the castle is. "It's a fairy castle. Of course you can't see it. It's invisible. Only fairies can see it!" Ah...now I understand. In case you were wondering about this 'castle' (and aren't familiar with the classic Ticknock hike), I suggest you visualise a tall pile of rocks, about the size of a garden shed. These aren't just any rocks. These rocks entice people from far and near to indulge in panoramic views of the Wicklow mountains, Dublin City, and the Irish Sea. People surround this massive pile of rocks, or stone castle for fairies, like it's a sacred ground. Perhaps it is. Every minute I sit here I can see the memories being made for each person.
For the three daughters and parents sitting near me: It's the munching of strawberries and letting its blood dribble down your chin and onto your white dog's fur.
For the elderly couple beside them: It's the unpacking of snacks while resting your tired legs in the sun.
For the two young women: It's sharing sunscreen and water before exploring the other side of the mountain.
It's getting your first deep red sunburn of the season.
These are the memories that we will pull from our treasury and share with our future selves to remind us of the sweet times in the sun. We won't remember the bad times or the cold March wind. Rather, we keep the momentary bits of happiness tattooed to our under skin for life.
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