This summer, I went on a solo trip to Wexford, Ireland, to visit my friend who was there for a summer internship. Despite the trip being 10 days long and a nine-hour flight halfway across the world, I didn’t plan anything besides my plane tickets and where I’d be sleeping.
The trip began two weeks before my senior year of college. My brain was consumed by thoughts about what I would do after graduation and how little time I had to get my life together. I was excited to go to Ireland to decompress and stop thinking about my next career choices or my plans after college. I wanted to focus on the country’s beauty and have a simple lifestyle for a few days.
Not planning was intentional because I wanted to explore and focus on the liberation of wandering. I decided to see local landmarks in Wexford and maybe visit nearby towns, but I set nothing in stone.
Once I got there, I realized all of Wexford could be seen in two hours. The town was full of simple beauty, despite how small it was in size.
In the mornings, people walked and bustled on the main road to their jobs, stopping every few minutes to greet a familiar face. The town went silent after the morning rush with only an occasional person roaming the streets.
By the third day of my stay, I began a routine. My friend would go to her internship and I’d visit the coffee shop in the center of town. I’d buy an oat milk latte to sip as I walked the whole municipality before finally settling at the bay.
I woke up everyday knowing what I would do and where I would go without having to make a plan. Each day, I’d visit a small docking area for fishing boats and trawlers. The air smelled of fish and sea salt, while seagulls padded around yelling for attention or food.
I sat on a stone wall and faced the river, watching the tide rise and the trawlers crawl out to sea. Now and then I’d turn and face the town, watching people chatter and families walk their dogs along the bay. I’d stay in the spot for hours observing my surroundings rather than becoming anxious about my future.
It felt good not thinking about my next steps in life. Instead, I listened to the sound of music playing from residents’ open windows along the bay of the river. The stone wall was a place of respite, where I could focus solely on the beauty of Ireland and forget about the internal anxieties I held before this trip.
I began to visit other towns during my trip, like Kilmore Quay, a small port town on the west end of Ireland. It had all the same features of Wexford — the smell, the people and the seagulls chasing a fish truck. Yet when I returned to Wexford in the evening, I’d walk to the stone wall in anticipation of watching the trawlers returning to their station.
I continued following this routine, but as the days drew on I started growing restless of the repetitiveness. I got bored of the same buildings and I tried to find details I hadn’t noticed before to no avail. While sitting on the stone wall, I found it hard to sit still. My mind began to think of experiences I’d have when returning home. I was still anxious but became ambitious to conquer my future.
Wexford’s beauty and serene nature never faded, but it could no longer disguise the pending tasks I was ignoring. My life is no longer about sitting and waiting for things to happen. I’m at the period of my life where I have to move.
When I watched the river’s tide pull out to sea I felt as though it was beating me and it reminded me of the anxieties of facing my senior year. I was jealous that each wave and whitecap of the river drifted so seamlessly out to sea while I had a hard time growing and fulfilling my potential. I wanted to be a part of something greater, like each ripple in the river meeting the ocean.
Although there was so much content found on this Irish bay, I no longer yeared for the mindless longed walk toward the river and did not crave the coffee in the center of town. I want movement like the river. I want the exhilaration of change. So, when I came home a week before my final year of college, I felt and relished the growing pains.
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