Careful.” Why do persons only say that after the hurt? Grandma.
Lots of the world seems to be a repeat.
You must feel an almost pathological need – understandably – to stand guard between your son and the world.” “Yeah, it’s called being a mother.” Ma nearly snarls it.
It was easy to lose a part of your body, it seemed to her; there were so many ways, it was a wonder anybody reached their death intact.
We Irish have a gift for resignation. Or, put another way, fatalism.
Fate was faceless, life arbitrary, a tale told by an idiot.
So when one spring in spite of all this good advice I fell in love, it felt like disaster. I took a tiny bite and it exploded in my stomach. Love splashed through every cranny, hauled on every muscle, unlocked every joint. I was so full of astonishment, I felt ten feet tall. My shoulders itched as if wings might break through.
A strident female voice causes men’s ears to close.
Ma knows everything except the things she doesn’t remember right, or sometimes she says I’m too young for her to explain a thing.
Little by little; the way out of the mine was as long as the way in.
Why are places to eat called coffee shops?” I ask him. “Well, coffee’s the most important thing they sell because most of us need it to keep us going, like gas in the car.” Ma only drinks water and milk and juice like me, I wonder what keeps her going. “What do kids have?” “Ah, kids are just full of beans.” Baked beans keep me going all right but green beans are my enemy food.
I’ll be in Heaven getting your room ready.
Not beautiful, not brilliant, no longer young.
Ma’s in Room still, I want her here so much much much.
Because your soul must be lonely. That silence you heard, when you tried to pray – that’s the sound of God listening.
That night my new skin was red silk, shivering in the breeze.
One never imagined that as the decades went by, one might drift into an unbounded country. It struck Lib now how alone in the world she was.
We spend most of our lives holding on to objects, he thought, and finally they fall from our cold dead hands and those who tidy up after us have to worry of what to do with all this stuff.
Now I feel bad I didn’t give her the second quarter. Grandma says that’s called having a conscience.
If you’re sorry, folks can tell. No use piling on the verbiage.