I have always viewed myself as unsentimental. Oh, sure. I religiously kept baby books for my children, and there is a box in the barn dedicated to early artwork, bits of pottery, class projects and so forth that my own children accumulated over the years. Mind you, in […]
I am three years old, lying in my mother’s bed on a warm, spring day. It is nap time. The moan of eighteen-wheelers passing on the interstate is carried on the breeze, breaking the silence of my pink-walled prison. Mum sleeps, her chest rising and falling, her song […]
It’s that time of year again… my winterly nesting urge has struck. Between obtaining more chickens and looking to add a few more fish to my tank, I am hoping this will satisfy the “mother” side of Mother Hen. “At your age?” you may ask, “Aren’t you a little […]
Note to self: When attending an Irish funeral, never forget your bodhran. Yesterday, I attended the memorial service for an old Irishman, the uncle by marriage to my dearest friend. His name was Seamus O’Sullivan, and it doesn’t get much more Irish than that! We were regaled with […]
Hands up every girl who said they would never… EVER… become their own mother? Now, don’t get me wrong. I adore my mum. (I know you’re reading this, Mum – don’t worry, I won’t leave you under the bus for long…) When I was growing up, my […]