“You see there, theres been many a bloke who’s offed himself from up there.”

After two hours with him I was starting to be able to understand Tim the first time around. He had a heavy Welsh accent, having been born and bred in Swansea to take on his family shop in the center of town. He was pointing to a large protruding rock in the sea, what the vikings deemed Worm’s Head. From where we stood on the edge of the cliff it was rough waters bordered by lush greens as far as we could see. The beaches down below stretched for miles, and during the summer were said to be swarming with European vacationers flocking to see the second most beautiful place in the world.

I could see dots of white on the Worm’s Head and wondered how those sheep so aptly roamed around without falling off. I’d write to a friend later that I found them much more competent than humans. I certainly would have toppled off.

Tim and Cheryl told me about the walks they’d taken around the coast, explaining the path that runs the length of Wales. One can camp out along various points and cover the entire country. I’d like to do that one day, I said over and over again.
I couldn’t help think about him as I saw the green blurs of his hometown, the places I’d heard about in his myth, as distant and magical as the dragons on his flag. The only country with a dragon on it, I remembered.
We went for coffee and then to the marina for an Italian style dinner. We were the only three in the restaurant and I was tired and hung over, aware of my recent acne breakout and the dreading of my hair. But there was so much love shared over shark (“it’s delicious here!”) and garlic bread that I let go of all of it for a moment in favor of hearing their travel plans and answering questions about New York, my family, and feelings about American healthcare.

After dinner I wrapped my arm around Cheryl’s waist and we walked home. So familiar she felt as our hips kept sync, I felt like she was my aunt who had once cooed over my chubby baby ankles. How do some people touch your heart so deeply, so suddenly? It’s a spell to fall under and never be released, I hope. We made peppermint tea when we got home and watched Youtube videos of the Welsh national anthem and the tourism video for Nantucket, the latter I had told them to see during one of their upcoming travels.
I felt myself in a cradle and wondered what it would mean to cancel the next leg of my trip and stay a while there, drinking Tim’s fresh beetroot and peach juices and buying fresh flowers for Cheryl. It hit me that I missed my family, and I’m not quite ready to mother myself completely.

In Swansea I slept as if Cheryl had rocked me to sleep, perhaps tickled my back and read me a story about happily ever afters because I dreamt of the Welsh dragons and that once fairy tale love. I woke up thinking I had been whisked away and there was nothing left to do but keep falling.

Wales is known for its wet cold and wind and I woke to the sounds of wind blowing over the sea of two-story flats and small trees. Not much to uproot nor blow over, but I wondered about all the little cars and if they would tumble like I imagined one or two dopey sheep had before. I found a yoga studio where I met Rachel, Tim’s niece, who had never before met an American. I wonder what she thought, but I think we hit it off. We stopped at the market on the way home and I bought a bouquet and a grapefruit and she told me of her oldest son’s recent Rugby injury. I told her to come to New York and visit. She smiled and looked down in the way that tells the thought had crossed her mind many times before meeting me, but was growing further away, the way a baby seems to become a little human overnight. The idea was a memory one can’t go back to. I gave her a hug and promised to see her if I was in Wales again. What a strange feeling, not knowing if you’ll ever see this person again. Moments strung together like pearls. You wear them for a while but then one day you put them in a drawer because they’ve gone and tangled themselves together and you can’t be bothered.

Tim made us breakfast of poached eggs, baked beans, and toast. He couldn’t share the grapefruit as he’s diabetic and I realized after I had eaten it that it might have been rude of me to enjoy what he couldn’t. But there is so much of that going on during a self-powered European trip, it was a drop in a bucket almost full.

When he drove me to the station he told me how recently more people have moved into the neighborhood. He wouldn’t mind, but they refuse to integrate. Instead casting judgement on the Welsh, he said. It was the first time I’d heard the intensity come out in his voice. I’m sure the twinkle in his eye wouldn’t have been there just then, and I didn’t want to see him without it, as I was leaving so soon.
When we said good-bye I started to tear up. Less than 24 hours in Swansea with him and Cheryl and I didn’t want to get on the bus. Be careful, keep your head down. He shifted his eyes and the father in him looked worried. He turned to leave and then thought better of it and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  Let us know when you arrive in Cardiff. Then he turned to leave to head to work at the shop that had been in his family for over 85 years.

Before I had gone to bed the night before, Cheryl knocked on my door to say goodnight. She hugged me, the best hugger I’ve ever met, the way I’d like to hug every person I love. I feel like I’ve known you forever, she said.

Me too, though thinking about it, and knowing me, if I had had the chance I would have eaten two grapefruits. I think that’s what traveling alone does to you sometimes.