Darn Bach o Dawelwch

A little piece of quiet

The name comes from my best friend Emma’s son, Jack. Emma and I have been friends since we were four, so I’ve watched Jack grow up too. When he was little, his mum would sometimes say that she needed “a bit of peace and quiet.” Jack, in that lovely way children have of making words their own, would call it “a piece of quiet.” I’ve never forgotten it. Years later, I realised I have a place that feels exactly like that. There is a path across the headland near Rhoscolyn that I have walked more times than I can remember. It twists between ancient rocks and little wooden bridges, past sea pinks and grasses, with glimpses of blue appearing between the land. It is beautiful, but that isn’t really why I love it. When my mind is busy and sleep won’t come, I walk this path in my imagination. I know every turn. I can hear the water below the rocks, feel the breeze coming off the sea and see the path stretching ahead. And somewhere along the way, the noise becomes quieter. I like to imagine that places remember us too. That every footprint leaves behind the tiniest piece of a story, and every time we return, the landscape gives a little of that peace back. Perhaps we all need somewhere like this. Not an escape from the world, just a small corner of it where everything becomes still. A little piece of quiet.

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