Archives for posts with tag: Ireland

Comet McNaught as seen from Swift's Creek, Vic...

If I’d never read THIS, I would have never known there’s a slight chance…ok, more than a slight chance…that we’ll be dust by March.  I jest (I think).

And although I said I would avoid writing resolutions this year and instead just endeavor to show more kindness toward myself, given the extenuating circumstances and the challenge set forth by the fun folks at WordPress I feel compelled to find three things I’d most like to change about myself.  Before March.

The first two are easy:

1.  I want to forgive myself for all the not so well thought choices I’ve made throughout my life.  Like being an art major instead of a history major like I wanted to do but was too chicken.  Or like choosing to not think about a retirement plan until I was fifty (of course, that could be moot if March ends with a bang).  And I think I’d like to forgive myself for disappearing off to Ireland for ten years instead of staying put and working through whatever it was I needed to work through. Ireland was great but it’s true – wherever you go, there you are.  So if I’d stay home instead of gallivanting off into the wilds I’d be ten years ahead on that retirement plan!

2.  Before March, I want to play with my shadow.  Let a little bit of my dark side out.  See if I can be a bad girl.  A very, very bad girl.  Ok. Maybe not that bad.  But I’m curious.  I want to see if I am more than a naïve Pollyanna.  Without breaking any laws, of course.

You know, this last one was easy, too:

3.  Finally, I’d like to show more courage.  I’d like to hear myself say ‘no’ more often – which really shouldn’t require courage, just a sense of who you are and what you want. I’d like to perform in public again – something I promised myself I’d do last year and then quickly brushed aside.  That takes a bit of courage.  I think it takes courage to believe in yourself with such ferocity that you refuse to allow your story to play out in any other way than the way you always believed it would.

Maybe that’s what I really want to do.  Before March 2013 I want be ferocious.

I better get busy.  March is only fifty-eight days away!


It didn’t take long for Your Daily Prompt to become Your Weekly Prompt.  And now it seems to be Your Whenever I Get Around to it Prompt.

This blog was meant to hold me accountable.  It was going to be my way of ‘writing down the bones’.  And with a bit of luck YDP would encourage readers to use the posted photo as their own writing prompt. My goal was to see Your Daily Prompt become a safe place to write and to share.

It was meant to be easy.  How difficult could it be to write for five minutes?  More difficult than I anticipated.

Yet I’m not throwing in the towel.  Not yet.

What follows are one hundred and forty nine words inspired by the photograph.  I took this image while on a ferry crossing the Irish Sea in 1991.  My jumping off point for the paragraph below were the three children at the railing and the man’s shadow.

They sent the children away during the war.  My brother and I were on a boat to our grandparents in Ireland by 1939 and that’s why I don’t always remember my father.  We were separated by time and circumstance. When I see him in my mind’s eye I see a man who was at first like a shadow. A man who was like darkness falling.

And then, after the war, my father became less than a shadow. He seemed tangled and wrapped by a shroud that bound him to his struggle.

Shipped back from Wicklow when I was nine, I spent 1945 shuttled between our shaken home and the cousins who raised pigs on a farm near Scunthorpe.    At home with my parents – the adults who were charged with teaching me about life – I learned to fear.  On the pig farm, with my cousins, I learned to live.