Promise : Prologue

Distance is like a wish

It always holds something special

For those who are waiting

Like a lover who was always waiting

For the return of that special one

The morning sun is shining like it always had. The sunflowers by the window signal the start of summer, and the ground is bleached with a bright yellow light.

“Maybe it’s too warm in here.”

I was sitting by the bed beside the window, and the sun shining its rays directly on the blanket warms up my legs. It’s not like I wanted to stay in this bed forever, but because of some unfortunate event, I was left here, sitting aimlessly and just wondering how this summer will pass by.

I flip the pages through the book I recently bought. Wait, that looks impossible. Rather, a book that was bought for me. And I’m getting this feeling that sooner or later the door to my room will suddenly open and –

“Dia dhuit ar maidin! Merr!”

“What?”

“It’s ‘good morning’ in Irish! You should at least understand that from that book that you’re reading.”

“I don’t even understand a word from this book. You should have instead brought me an English-Irish dictionary.”

“But it’s heavy. Besides, that Irish pocketbook looks like a good read.”

“And I’m guessing that’s the only thing you learned from your trip to Ireland.”

“That’s not all! Wait, wait, I’ll think of other phrases I learned!”

– said the girl that I was expecting. This girl – Shienna Yvonne – was a traveller. Or maybe it would be better to say, addicted to travelling. During our college days she was a member of the Traveller’s Club, and would go to different places in the country. Once she graduated, her travelling range widened from just provinces and islands to places abroad. And now, she just returned from her trip to Ireland.

And this book was one of the souvenirs she bought for me, though I must admit it is written in Irish so I don’t really understand any word from it.

“And there’s this, umm, Ta gre-- Ta grá a--“

“Ta grá agam duit?”

“Ah yes that! How did you know that phrase?”

“It’s written here in this book. What does that mean?”

“Oh, and I thought you knew that phrase because you know its meaning.”

“I don’t. So can you please enlighten me now?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“What? Why would that be?”

“Well, it’s… I love you.”

And apparently, this travelling girl is my girlfriend.

I listened to her stories about how she found the stones – which were called Uragh Stone Circle – weird, how Ireland is divided into the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland like she’s a history teacher, how the Giant’s Causeway is too tiring for her, how Brú na Bóinne is too difficult to say, how there are still castles in Ireland that looked like those from the medieval ages, and other things that kept her talking for hours.

And it’s not that I hate her talking like that – I actually like it very much.

To me whose day to day life means sitting in this bed, having her speak of such tales make me feel like I was a part of her travels. The way she talks like it just happened yesterday, and how she smiles and frowns and changes her emotions like it was embedded in her – I like it all, specially the way that she tells me that doesn’t sound like someone who pities me for not being able to go to such places.

I guess that’s why it’s never tiring to hear her talk and rant and chuckle and laugh.

“And the next day, we went to see this cool river…”

Yeah. She goes on and on.

And I don’t think I told my name yet, have I?

Merlin Jerome.

Quite a fitting name for someone who stays indoors, only it’s not a wizard, but a paralyzed boy who can’t even walk.

~ Prologue End ~