Page 62 of Some Like It Scot
“Aye.” Mirren sat in the chair opposite me and studied me for a moment. “’Tis a place to calm the troubled heart for sure.”
“Well, I don’t know about troubled, but my mind’s been too busy. My heart too. So the fresh air and just the overall... I don’t know... atmosphere brings a special something with it.”
“Ah, now there’s something my gran used to say about a busy mind.” She pushed a plate of scones toward me. “A busy mind can come from a restless spirit.”
I looked over at her, a burst of air puffing from my lips. “My grandpa used to say that.”
“And he was Scottish?”
“Aye,” I responded, causing her to smile. “I know it sounds strange, but he seems a little closer to me since I’ve been here. I think about him and my gran often, but since being here, things he used to say and memories of him seem to be everywhere.”
“And that’s good?”
“It’s great.” My eyes burned a little, despite my smile. “I’d never felt safer or”—the word came to mind like an epiphany—“moresettledthan when I was with my grandparents. They were the best people. They were welcoming and seemed to have joy and”—I looked over at her, trying to find the right words—“quietness in their hearts. Kind of like you, I think.”
“’Tis a sweet notion and even sweeter reality.” Her gaze searched mine again. My eyes stung a little more. “When you know you’re loved, it changes everything.”
That was it. So simple I should have figured it out by now. But the difference between being with my parents and staying with my grandparents boiled down to knowing without question that I was loved.
And that knowledge not only gave my heart a sense of belonging but gave me freedom to be me. “Yes.” I swallowed through the growing lump in my throat. “It does.”
“There’s comfort in speaking about the ones we’ve lost.” Mirren pushed a plate of “biscuits” toward me, encouraging me to share morethan just the superficial I usually gave to the people in passing. She wanted more. “What sort of man was your grandpa?”
Some tightly coiled knot in my heart began to unravel at her question.
“Big.” I laughed. “He had a personality that took up an entire room in the best way. People loved gathering around and listening to him tell stories. Gran was the same way, except a quieter version. And Grandpa always had a smile. Even after Gran died. When he’d speak of her, many times through tears, the sweetest expression always covered his face. It didn’t take long for him to follow her exit.”
The quiet softened the declaration.
“Love doesnae stop when bodies do.” Her voice smoothed over the words. “It’s one of the comforts in losing a loved one, ye ken? The love lingers long.”
Unless it has squeezed you into silence or nearly suffocated you with unspoken words.
I pressed into the memory of how my grandpa mourned my gran. A sweet grief. A tight grasp with his heart but a loose hold with his hands.
But Mirren’s words? Love lingers long.
I recalled the walk from Craighill to Glenkirk, everything from the breeze to the mist to the sea calling me to slow down and embrace the now. To take it in. To savor.
I took a bite of the delicious scone to have something to do. I understood her sentiment because, despite my parents’ resolve to ignore loved ones’ deaths in some weird way that meant we never talked about them, the love for my grandparentsdidlinger. Brett and I would talk about them sometimes, which provided a sense of relief, even if Mom and Dad refused.
But talking about death always left me sore inside, even if I wanted to talk about them.
Their love did linger long inside me. “It’s a good thing you were close to them.”
I smiled and swallowed my bite. “Definitely. They’re the ones who encouraged my writing when everyone except my brother, Brett, thought it was crazy.” I sniffled and took a sip of tea. “And once they passed away, I took their encouragement and began to travel.”
“And you fancy traveling?”
“I do.”
She caught the slight hesitation because her chin tipped the least bit, so I rushed ahead. “I really do. Writing about where I go and what I experience comes naturally to me. And seeing different cultures and beauties fills my life with so much amazement.”
“But?”
She did remind me of my gran, except a younger version.
“Well, sometimes, especially since coming here, I wonder what it would be like to... not travel so much.”
