watching people be happy

on aunties, a wedding, & my dad's SUV

on top of Krippenstein

We couldn’t rent a car in Austria, so the plan was Hallstatt by train and Obertauern by however we could manage the rest. The cable cars up to Dachstein Krippenstein sat an hour's walk above where we were staying, straight uphill, and it was a road instead of a footpath for the better part of it.

A small group of middle-aged women found the same trail we did. Asian aunties, in the way you recognise instantly and can’t quite explain, their accents landing somewhere between Singapore and somewhere else. We kept crossing paths with them throughout the day, at different mouths of the cave system, at the lookout near the top, on the walk back down. Every single time, at least one of them had a phone out, photographing the others mid-laugh, mid-squint into the sun, mid-adjustment of a hat that kept slipping.

I thought of my mother. My aunt. Whether either of them will ever get a mountain like this one, at that age, with a group of women willing to climb it to take a hundred photos of each other being happy.

When we asked one of them to take our photo, she took seven. Different angles, different distances, one where she made us step slightly left for the light. Every single one was good enough to post exactly as it was.

At the end, we reached the parking lot before they did. Most people either drove or took the tour bus down rather than walk, which was the sensible option if your budget allowed for it. Ours didn't, not really, so we walked instead.

The aunties caught up with us one last time, waiting for their own bus. One of them clocked us heading for the road on foot.

“Are yous planning to walk down?” Half disbelief, half something warmer.

“Yeah. It’s like an hour, tops.”

She laughed. “Oh, to be young.”

We didn’t see a single bus the whole way down. I like to think they were still up there, waiting, taking one more photo before it came.

cute wedding food

The wedding that made the trip possible happened a few days before Austria, in Germany. Two people who’d built and fought for a relationship that asked them to contend with coming from two different continents, visa headaches, language barriers, and a family that wasn’t entirely approving of the union. The backstory changed what I was watching. This wasn’t just a nice day. It was the far side of something.

The day before, forecast said sun, and the ceremony was booked outside. Then the morning came in grey, pouring, and stayed that way. Everyone shifted indoors. The day after, the sky cleared again. Sun all around.

None of that mattered once the vows started. I watched people who’d known this couple through the worst of the obstacles and the disapproval reach for tissues they hadn’t planned on needing. I was one of them.

Sun before, rain during, sun after.

Nobody at the wedding seemed to remember it had rained at all.

first successful drive to Portmarnock Beach; outside of our general area in Dublin

Ten years. Studying got in the way, then living abroad, then Covid-19, then the backlog in the Irish system that meant appointments booked out for the better part of a year. My last set of lessons expired. Roughly over 200 euros down the drain. I started again a few weeks ago, determined to actually reach the test this time.

My dad handed me the keys to his SUV, the seven-seater Volvo he’d had for years, and sat in the passenger seat like it was nothing. Like handing your kid the keys to a car you’ve meticulously taken care as if it was another child of yours is nothing.

It wasn’t. I could see it in how he sat there, hands loose in his lap instead of gripping the door handle the way I expected. He was proud in a way that had nothing to do with the driving itself and everything to do with watching me finally get somewhere he’d been waiting (and nagging) a decade for me to get to.

We drove us eight hours round trip two weeks later, out past Dublin to visit my cousin. I did the driving. He did the sitting there, quietly pleased, the whole way.

I thought I’d feel the most joy behind that wheel.

I didn’t. He did.

it’s michelle d.

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p.s. hello loves, it’s been a while.

I’ve had a lot happening in the past couple of weeks, from work trips, someone else’s wedding, holidays, job offer, job acceptance, moving back properly to warm warm warm London (still thankful I’m not in mainland Europe, which is apparently melting)

& sooo, I have a backlog. On reading for sure. But also on writing. I’m currently working on a draft of the next unsent letter, it’s a bit heavy for me, so taking a bit more time than usual.

but alas, we shall get there — coming hopefully end of next week.

in the meantime, please continue to send in your letters; I may be slow in responding, but I am doing my best to maintain the weekly cadence, even during full-time work.

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Hiii, in case you stumbled upon this serendipitously,

A quick intro:

I’m an intersectional human trying to figure out life, love, business, and help others a long the way. I write about the human stuff: the relationships we navigate, the decisions we second-guess, and the quiet confessions we keep to ourselves until someone asks the right question. Or rather, until someone gives us a safe space to voice out our questions.

One thing I learned from writing essays is how much I love the interaction and community around it. Hence the core concept of this newsletter: unsent letters.

Send me a Letter

Send me a quiet confession. Dilemmas that keep you awake, unspoken feelings, the truths that live only in your head. I don’t advise severely; I’m not qualified for that. But I can read, reflect, and remind you (& me) — it’s not just you. It’s us.

Unsent letters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Personal rambles: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Behind-the-letter: 1

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Join me in building the kind of community that reminds us someone out there understands. Everything here is free to read. Paid subscribers get a behind-the-letter post for certain pieces: the cuts, the detours, what I almost wrote instead. If the writing means something to you, that’s one way to stay closer to it. Or buy me a coffee. Both appreciated.

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