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Maybe it’s something about the hills and mountains that tower through the county of Wicklow. Maybe it’s the fact they create such beauty when you see them from Wicklow Town. Maybe it’s the Black Castle that has seen such important days of my life.

Maybe it’s an old Hotel that greets you enter.

Maybe it’s a rolling haystack, or a swing hanging from an old Oak Tree. Maybe it is something a small as a pothole on the road you grew up. Maybe it’s the piers, as they grow towards each other. Maybe it’s the Wendy, floating aside the diving boards. Maybe it’s sitting on the sand at the Silver Strand at 2am in the morning, being told the person you are about to kiss thinks she will end up ruining your life.

Maybe it’s just shaking your head, and kissing her anyway.

Maybe it’s the Saturday fry you always get from you Mother, maybe it’s the constant chauffeuring your always get from your Father.

Maybe it’s the absent friends, and the hopes that you will bump into them. Maybe it’s early morning walks on a Saturday. Maybe it’s the place you used to sit and wit.

Maybe it’s the memories of feeling alive. Maybe it’s the joy that seeped though you veins in the few months of perfect joy you had.

Maybe it’s the fact you left your heartbreak there.

Maybe it’s the fact you were not afraid to come back and face it.