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“Well, you’ve been to one country I haven’t been to.I haven’t got to Greece yet.It’s on the list.”He paused, taking a final drink of his wine.“What’s on your list?”
I shrugged.“Never really thought about it.I guess I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.I’d like to see Rome.”
Donovan placed his empty cup on top of his now discarded plate.“Well, why don’t you?”
“Time.Money.Also, who would I go with?It doesn’t seem like it would be much fun alone.”
“I’ve been mostly doing it on my own since I left.I did spend three years with one girl, but… it didn’t work out.”
Nothing in his expression said he was sad about their break-up, but I wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.It struck me as strange that he had spent so long with one person, but there were still seven years when he was on his own.Didn’t he miss the company?
“Wasn’t it better when you had someone to share it all with, though?”I asked.
Another pause.“Not better.Just different.It was fun to talk about all the things we’d seen together.All the romantic walks along beaches and stuff.But without her, I got to meet a lot of other people.When I was with Paige, I met a lot less people.Even fewer who I stayed in touch with once we moved on.Being alone, I got to know others who were passing through, locals in bars, and business owners.All kinds of people, because nobody but me decided what to do with my time.”
Maybe he’d been alone for too long now.My grandad died when I was twelve, and after a few years of him being gone, I asked my grandma if she wanted to meet someone new.She laughed and said she was too set in her ways.But Donovan was much younger than her.Perhaps it wasn’t about being used to being on his own, just that he kept himself so busy he didn’t have a second to think about it.
“Are you really close to any of the people you met?Like, call them up when you’re having a bad day kind of close?”
“I have my parents for that.But I do have close friends still in Australia and New Zealand.I spent a lot of time in Sydney and Auckland.”His eyes grew distant, wistful, as if wishing he were back in one of those places.“But you’ve changed the subject.We were talking about where you want to go.”
Shrugging again, I said, “I guess I’m just a person who likes her home comforts.”
Again, a small hint of judgement crossed his face, wobbling the foundations of friendship we were somehow rebuilding.Everything was simpler when we were kids.Just two children enjoying the best season.Now, he was in town under duress and didn’t even like Christmas—food and drink aside—much.He’d experienced so much that small-town life was unappealing, and I’d experienced so little that breaking out of my ‘normal’ seemed alien.
But Ilikedmy life.Liked where I lived, and the community.A holiday would have been nice, but I had a beach right on my doorstep.Okay, it was cold and rainy a lot of the time, but it was still beautiful.In fact, wandering down to Coryton Cove—the secret beach that not all tourists knew about—was my happy place.I loved to sit outside the Cove Café in the summer with a cold drink and a slice of cake, just looking out at the sea.
“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’ll gladly give you some recommendations,” Donovan said.
I offered him a small smile, then said, “We should go and look for your nan.”
“Yeah, we should.”
After clearing away our rubbish, we wandered down the much less busy path beside The Lawn, then back up to The Strand Centre, where June was still happily watching the carol singers.They were pretty decent and had drawn a crowd.However, something about my conversation with Donovan had dimmed my mood.Maybe it was because I suddenly wondered if I’d been missing out by dedicating my life to work and family, or maybe I just didn’t appreciate the judgemental glances he sometimes threw my way.
Whatever it was, I simply didn’t enjoy the market as much as I usually did.
When I got home, I snuggled up on the sofa under a blanket with a cup of coffee and watched Christmas movies to restore my faith in the festive season.It wasn’t until the evening that I decided to look up Donovan’s blog.Curiosity had plagued me all afternoon, but I didn’twantto be interested in where he’d been.I’d tried to keep away from it, but for some reason, I was desperate to understand why he was the way he was.
His blog exuded professionalism, and a small photo of Donovan sat in the top left-hand corner.Even in his picture, he still looked somewhat grumpy.But he had said that was a part of his online persona.It was kinda hard to know what was real and what wasn’t with him sometimes.It was still messing with my brain to think about how joyful he was as a child compared to now.My love of Christmas hadn’t dwindled.At all.Maybe that was part of the appeal of teaching.It meant I still got to get swept up in that giddy excitement children have as December comes around.
As my eyes glanced down the blog page, I noticed a brand new post, submitted a couple of hours ago.Shortly after we’d returned home from the market.The bold white headline read: Hometown Blues.Hmm, not a positive start.
Intrigued, I clicked to read more.
You may or may not know this, but as a child, I spent a lot of my time in Devon, in the UK.I hadn’t been there in years, and returning has thrown up a lot of curiosity about life within a small community.Today, I experienced Dawlish Christmas Market again.It was just how I remembered it to be.Lots of locals enjoying the music and the atmosphere.Stalls selling Christmas gifts and delicious treats.If you like that kind of thing, I’d highly recommend a visit.
But the thing is, a small part of me hoped I’d feel...something.Don’t get me wrong, I love the nostalgia of my family’s hometown.So many things are the same or similar.But I just don’t know how I could settle in a place where everyone is so close-knit.In a way, it’s nice, but in another way, it makes me feel shut in.
I hoped being around something familiar would re-ignite ‘the magic of Christmas’.That hasn’t happened so far, and I’m coming around to the fact that Christmas is just not as much fun as an adult.Not that I hadn’t figured it out years ago.It was more of a confirmation that I’ve lost something I can’t get back.
Even so, Dawlish is a great town.I just don’t think there is anything here for me now.
As I finished reading, several thoughts hit me at once.The teacher in me wanted to give him a C for effort.I assumed more work went into other things he’d written because that was more of a self-indulgent whine about how he was bigger than the small town he visited when he was younger.Our hometown had plenty to offer.Nothing about it made me feel ‘shut in’.If anything, knowing so many people gave me a sense of safety.I liked familiarity.I loved the tradition of the market and knowing what to expect from it.I loved carnival week, and summer fetes on The Lawn.I didn’t deny there was a lot of world to explore, but this was where I would always come back to.
On the other hand, Donovan’s expression of being too old for Christmas magic made me a little sad.Perhaps I might have understood if I’d done as much moving around in my life as he had.Because really, most of his childhood Christmases were split between somewhere in Cornwall, Dawlish, and then Italy.
What the hell had happened on his travels?What had made him cynical?
