Well, this morning was a bit out of the ordinary. I was awakened by a knock on the door announcing the arrival of breakfast and when I opened the door (wearing my night shirt) before me stood FOUR young men each holding a single item on a tray. They seemed a bit disappointed that I was clothed this morning, but they cheerfully reminding me of the hot tub in the courtyard which, they claimed, was “clothing optional” after midnight. I thanked them for the courtesy and the tidbit of information.
After breakfast and a clean, Logan and I headed off to find this mystical Pineapple Fountain where we are to meet with the Right Reverend Sinn Jean. Having no clue, I made inquiry with one of the lads who had delivered breakfast. From the look on his Mum’s face, she was NOT pleased that I would have the nerve to show my face around her son, so SHE came out and told me where to find the fountain, and NO the hot tub does NOT have a “nekkid time…..EVAH!”
Off we toddled and found this fountain that is truly beautiful. While we waited, I couldn’t help but slip off my sandals and dangle me feet in the water. It was invigorating, to say the least….Ice Cold would be more appropriate. I asked our host how we should address him, so as to be properly respectful and not offend. He said “as long as you don’t call me shithead, we’re good.” I donkey-honk laughed when he said that. Logan snorted like a pig, which made us both laugh even harder. Now my cheeks ache and my stomach hurts, but it was worth it.
We strolled through the park and sat in the gazebo for a bit while we talked about yesterday’s discussion. Rev. I’m Not Shithead told us that we had revealed more than a deep seated resentment for the Grunge, but a fear that, perhaps, his predilections toward incestory depravities might be heredity. He assured us that he had not found any reliable studies which proved the notion that such traits would be genetic, rather they are a either a diminished mental capacity or behaviour that was either learned or he chose not to suppress. Logan told him that he just wanted some closure to the whole situation, and I nodded my agreement. Rev. I’m Not Shithead smiled and said, “I’m sorry to inform you that there is no such thing as “closure” only a state where you can accept that what has happened cannot be changed but your life will continue on in spite of all that has happened.”
While he let us process that stunner, he took some bread from his pocket and asked me to feed the birds. So I threw a few little pieces out, and before I knew it there was a whole flock of pigeons around us, in front of us, behind us, sitting on us, all wanting bread. Rev. I’m Not Shithead looked at us and said, “Can you feed all these birds with only a handful of bread?” We both shook our heads “no” hoping the birds would not poo upon us, and he said, “The same principle is at play with your memories of the Grunge. You can only cling to so many and the rest have to accept that there is no more room for them. Practice this each day, and replace these memories with worthwhile memories and you will begin to come to the realization that the Grunge no longer controls your lives, rather YOU control your lives.”
He got all that from just listening to us blather on yesterday? Oh My Shyte! I don’t care if anyone else agrees with him or not, this was an explanation I can grab onto and understand!
Then we walked back to those swings at the pier letting all this soak in. Rev. I’m Not Shithead told us that he would like for us to take the rest of the day and walk around, take in the sights, and sometime before tomorrow morning, write a letter to the Grunge detailing the pain he had caused and still seems to cause and what you wish life would have been with him or if we wanted to ever have had a life with him. Then he left us with this, “Keep this in mind, without the Grunge, you would not be here in this lovely city, nor would we have had the chance to chat, nor would you have met the wonderful people you interact with every day. The Grunge, evil though he is, had a purpose as well.” And with that, my mind went numb for a long while. Logan and I just sat there swinging .
Now it’s time to eat something, and we’re struggling to even consider where to go. From right behind us, Rev. I’m Not Shithead stepped up and said, “How about a bite and a beer at Tommy Condon’s Pub?”
From that position where I didn’t really want to come here, to now wondering why we didn’t come here sooner, because we both have been floored in so short a period of time and yet the burdens we’ve been carrying around for our lives are so much less burdensome now.