Grace upon a time

Thu, Jan 14, 2016

He is sitting there, all alone, huddled in the chilly May dew upon a rock dressed in seaweed. His scruffy, woollen coat wrapped tightly around his frailing 84 year old body. The waves, roughly batter around his black, scuffed ankle boots as he licks on an icecream cone. A lonesome seagull is perched on the rock beside him trying to peck at the cornet. ‘Away with you,’ he flummoxed with his tar stained, crinkly hand. ‘Shoo.’ It has always baffled me as to where he can get an icecream cone for his breakfast. The town is a distance away and his feeble waddle would take him a good two hours to walk. I am convinced he lives in the icecream truck hiding behind the Burrishoole, Grace O’Malley castle, over towering beside us. I often hear the jingle of the icecream van but I can never see it.

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Woman at the Door

Thu, Nov 19, 2015

Life’s pictures flicker around me as I linger outside the weather-beaten door. A crow perches on a branch of the skeleton ash on the lawn and a hearse stands in the lane. Bodies hide under a roof of umbrellas. I recognise some, even though years of humanity have battered them. It’s not peculiar that they don’t acknowledge me. They give their condolences to my sister, Margaret. I lost Jamie a long time ago. She’s only losing him now.

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The Visitor

Thu, Nov 12, 2015

After he knocked, the visitor entered the house through a small narrow hallway. He ducked to avoid hitting his head on the low door frame. “Ara, Michael, it is grand to see you at last. Your brother told me you’d come up. How are they all down there in Turlough? They must be delighted to have you home in Mayo. How long has it been? Three years?”

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