Michael felt that his best chemistry was with the friends of the soil. Pruning his Jasmine was the most affection he had given anything all winter. As the lighter mornings of March arrived, it was time for his annual trip to Dublin. It had become as routine as putting marmalade on his toast over the last thirty years. Like the beauty frozen within a snow globe, his memory of Dublin never faded.

Flights were much faster than taking the ferry from Holyhead, but that is how he traveled there all those years ago. Putting his green woolly hat on to cover up his messy, greying black hair, Michael sipped his Guinness on the top deck. He needed some new jeans. Since hitting his fifties, replacing tight clothing was the most significant change he saw apart from taking a liking to Blue Stilton. Once on the Emerald Isle, Michael took the shuttle bus to the Connolly Station, two rows from the back, just like in 1995. 

Arriving at the Four Courts Hostel by the River Liffey, Michael remembered partying the night away in Temple Bar with his best schoolmates, Peter and John, in their early twenties. The Dublin trip had been for John’s twenty-first. By the turn of the Millennium, Peter and John had both met their wives and moved away, eventually to be owners of luxurious country estates.  It wasn’t their company, though Michael came here to remember; it was Sinead’s. 

The morning after the heavy night in Temple Bar, Michael wandered beside the Liffey for some fresh air. The early morning sunlight breathed life into the red, pink, and yellow primroses by the riverbank. Tired and clumsy in mind and body, he slumped onto a bench. He wanted to grab a tea, but the five-minute walk was too much effort. The fruity fragrance of Elizabeth Arden’s perfume got his attention. A woman with long, fluffy blond hair, which perfectly complemented her red, rosy dress, was walking by. Michael thought he must be dreaming. She smiled, and it felt like the sun had just arisen over a frozen hill, melting all the hardness in his heart. 

“Mind if I join you?” she asked. 

“Of course,” Michael said, rubbing his tired eyes. “Sorry, rough night.” 

“Temple Bar?” she guessed, grinning. “You should’ve asked me. I know far better places.” 

“Maybe you could show me tonight,” Michael said, smirking.

“I like a guy who quickly gets down to business,” she said.

“I am a Gardener who quickly makes a mark.” 

“I am a teacher, but you can just call me Sinead. On my morning stroll, I noticed a handsome man on my bench.”

“That someone was me, Michael.” 

“We need an Irish Coffee. It’s still cold here in March,” Sinead said, placing her hand on his thigh.

Michael remembered vividly those moments they spent together. There were perfume scents, chemistry, and soon kisses. Sinead stroked his thick, dark hair and appreciated his hairy, bulky arms. All that heavy lifting in the gardens had paid off, but Michael’s smile and humble, warm nature made him one in a million.  A rainbow appeared over the Liffey just as they embraced. 

“Ah, rainbows always symbolize a connection to something good for me,” she smiled. 

“Me too; they are magical,” he said. “So, where shall we eat tonight?” 

“Anywhere with you.” 

 A tap on Michael’s shoulder broke their moment together.

“The Gaelic Footie starts in less than an hour. Move your butt now,” said Peter.

“Already?” Michael said, getting up red-faced. Peter was walking off at pace. 

Sinead looked expectantly at Michael, but he just said, ‘Sorry, I don’t know what to say.’ Panicking, he quickly followed Peter. Changes in life terrified him. Tears trickled down Sinead’s cheeks. She had never had such chemistry with anyone else. She knew that he liked her. He seemed more genuine than any other guy. 

“She is out of your league,” Peter smirked as Michael caught up. “You should have gone into Real Estate with me and John. Any man with loot gets the girls.”

Michael felt lost in a cloud of regret rather than being at the match between Tyrone and Kerry. He didn’t even know what the half-time score was when an elderly man asked him. He couldn’t sleep thinking, would he see her again? He thumped his pillow, tossed, and turned, but nothing would rewind the time. 

Leaving the hostel shortly after dawn, his mates would still be asleep for hours after another heavy night. The ferry wasn’t until 2 pm. Heavy rain beat down against the stone path along the side of the Liffey as a biting northern wind clawed at him. The bench from yesterday was a piece of dull, damp, lonely wood. His only company was the mud. Sinead said that she always went on a morning stroll. He would see her again soon if he waited. Michael was drenched but didn’t even notice. After one hour, it was the same time as yesterday, but there was no sign of her. He couldn’t give up despite feeling cold, wet, and weak. The next thing he knew, he was woken up by a nurse at St James’s Hospital well into the afternoon. He never told his friends why he missed that ferry. 

Sinead had always been the first person on his mind every day since. He would not be alone each night if he hadn’t walked away from her. His old friends only sent him a digital Christmas card each year. Unfortunately, their diaries were too full for him to visit their country estates. When there was a drought, his pansies missed him if he forgot to water them, but that was about it. Religious folk would sometimes make pilgrimages, maybe to Canterbury or Mecca, but Michael went to Dublin to cherish that brief moment of love over and over again. Lightning could strike, he always hoped. 

Each year, returning to the Four Courts Hostel, Michael felt his age more. The dormitories were full of backpackers in their early twenties. Usually, there was at least one silver-haired couple there, but this time, no one else seemed older than forty. His roommates hit Temple Bar until the early hours, just like he did thirty years ago. They showed no consideration for the aging geezer when they returned and watched TikTok videos for most of the night. 

Breathing in the fresh, earthly scent of the early morning rain was a great relief for Michael. Seeing the bench still there by the riverbank, he breathed a sigh of relief. A mallard duck sounded like it was laughing at him. Even the ducks now thought he was a loser. Michael took a sip of his Irish coffee and remembered that day. He had made a great impression but had been even quicker in ruining everything. No one cared what he did anymore. Tears streaming down his face, Michael threw some of his croissant to the duck. 

As the duck quacked in appreciation, a warming ray of sunshine shone on Michael’s face. By the Liffey, he saw a family of bunny rabbits playing happily in the lush green grass. They appeared to smile at him. A young jogger ran by, and she said, ‘Morning, Sir.’ At that moment, a vibrant rainbow appeared over the Liffey, rich and full of more color than Michael had ever seen before. The golden tip of the rainbow was on the other side of Grattan Bridge. Michael knew he had to get there, sensing something special about the day.

As Michael passed the Leprechaun Museum, he vividly sensed his old encounter with Sinead. That smell of Elizabeth Arden perfume overpowered him. A young woman passed by in a rosy red dress, just like Sinead’s. Was he really in the present? As he reached the Wolftone Square Gardens, the rainbow disappeared. Something lifted in Michael as if the weight of years had suddenly lessened. A robin perched on a nearby bench, its song crisp in the morning air. The world felt still, hushed as if holding its breath. Then, beyond the orange and blue crocuses, he saw her. The same light stride, the same familiar presence. Time hadn’t taken her away. It had only led them back here.

As his heart raced, his instinct was to run. She still looked immaculate in a long purple coat, and he was a scruffy wreck. A voice in him said to stay. Then she stopped. Their eyes met, and Michael felt young again for the first time in decades. Their smiles widened in sync as if thirty years had never passed.

“Need another Irish Coffee?” she said. 

“I still remember our last one like it was yesterday,” Michael said.

“I never felt the same with anyone else,” she said with a wink. “I even got engaged once, but didn’t feel any passion. All I hoped for was you.” 

“I knew we would meet again.” 

“I even came back every year, hoping for you.”

Kissing until sunset, a new spring blossomed in both their hearts. As the blackbird chirped, its choruses over the seas of flowering magnolias, their wait was over, and their dreams were fulfilled. After many a year, the dormant seeds germinated into an abundance of new radiance.