I could feel the layers of my being grinding together, as the old ones buried pushed outwards. As if they could smell the brine of Second Beach.

Returning to St. George’s felt like coming home

To a house filled with different people

In a different season

A different time

 

I had carried this place within me, like the ancient story of my existence. Now it screamed inside of me, calling for the reversal of time.

Everything was familiar

Except for me

I was the strange one in the place

That had been mine

 

It was almost fantastical, dreamlike. The desire to hide away in this temporary castle on a hill, the dread of waking up.

Had I noticed

How beautiful?

Had I known

How lucky?

 

I had. And in the chapel tower and fields stretching towards the sea, I saw myself, my own love reflected.

I had loved St. George’s

On a cellular level

A love that is lived

But unreturnable

 

I am the best parts of that place. I am who I became, and I am who I will become.

But I cannot return to what no longer exists.