She had dreamt of this moment every night for nineteen years, and like all dreams the details shift and float, ethereal like a distant fog, never set, but always certain. And it was perfect. The church bells still rang in her ears and in her heart as he drove them along the winding road by the river, the afternoon sun dancing through the leaves on the trees and lighting his face in a hundred different ways, all at once. She watched him as he carved their new life together into the road before them, sure and confident. The man of her dreams. He felt her eyes on him and turned his face to hers and smiled. The wind rushing by the windows was a choir heralding the rest of their lives. They spoke no words, as none were needed. The car slowed and gently came to a halt. They stepped out, the view of the river and the towering spire of the distant cathedral sat just over his right shoulder, just like in her dreams. The town of Letterkenny, where she could be anyone she wanted to be. A new life. As he held her close, he whispered in her ear,
“Turn around..”
She turned.
“Go on”, he said excitedly, “read it!”
“Welcome to Newtowncunningham…”
“…well?”, he asked with a nervous smile.
She moved back to her family home while they finalised the divorce, and when, in years to come, she would look back at this part of her life, she would refer to it as “the blip”.