It feels hard to let go of summer. Today I was wandering around the lanes with two small children. One runs ahead constantly putting the heart across me while the other holds my hand and is anxious about the shade of trees and the sound of bees. I’m adding a narrator's voice to the walk just to reassure her that all is . . .
When hope is scarce
We come from a harsh history ourselves; 800 years of occupation, a terrible famine which halved the population and the ongoing loss of emigration which goes on to this day. We didn't forget any of it. That kind of pervasive pain is passed down. Sometimes it's their absence that brings home the memories. What they left behind, the empty . . .
