ballagàrraidh (n)
the awareness that you are not at home in the wilderness

_______

i had a dream.
i was a young boy,
i don't know why.... but I decided to run away.
maybe my mother scolded me,
maybe my father hadn't come home like he promised.
maybe my dog died and I realized nothing lasts forever.
or maybe the girl I liked kissed Tommy Allen under the swings.
I don't know,
but I took to the woods that surrounded my home.

the eerie quiet that seemed to settle over the woods consoled me.
I was at peace.
it was something my young self could appreciate,
the feeling of inhaling fresh air tinted with the smell of dirt.
it was oddly satisfying.

but as it got darker,
and became harder to tell if it was a hare or slender man that rustled the bushes.
When the nighttime sounds began to erupt from among the trees and the woods seemed to come alive with a whole new set of nefarious wonders.
I was suddenly tired of my new found freedom.

I remember it being like a punch in the gut,
the ballagàrraidh held me in its fist and shook me.
it was like my senses returned in one staggeringly blunt truth.
I didn't belong here.
I remember it being a relief and a burden at the same time.
the fact that I was attached to my mother and the light in our window that promised food and warmth felt like a betrayal.

I wasn't meant for the wild.

the idea of it seemed beautiful and pure and raw,
the notion that a young boy could live off spear fishing and amuse himself by learning the calls of the birds.
it all seemed fairytale and right,
like that was what I was meant to do.

I felt that by missing my mother I had failed some grand test of manhood.
I began to run wildly through the bushes,
calling loudly for home.

I don't know if I found my way because I woke up suddenly,
tangled in the bittersweet melancholy of a slowly fading dream.