Today I’m thinking about friendship, and about how lucky Ronan is to be meeting so many people who love him and play with him, feed him and rock him. E arrived (hurrah!) and the energy in the house is changed — I feel more like myself, more grounded thanks to her presence. Who knew that a chance meeting on a wet night in an Irish pub in Geneva would lead to such a journey?
Today I’m thinking about how incredible it is to love people for who and what they are, moment to moment, and the ways in which these moments accumulate into stories you can tell around a dinner table, with new friends, in a place you never expected to find yourself. All of these tales we carry around with us, that leave their mark, all these losses that hollow us out, and still the people we love can see who we are even as they recognize our new shape. People who show up in the aftermath and say: I know you.
Dawn on the river:
Dublin rises out of what reflects it:
looks to the east, to the sea
her profile carved out by the light
on the old Carlisle bridge.
I was five
when a piece of glass
cut my head and left a scar.
Afterwards my skin felt different.
And still does on these autumn days when
the mist hides the city
from the Liffey.
The Liffey hides
the long ships, the muskets and the burning domes.
Everything but this momentary place.
And those versions of the Irish rain
which change the features
of a granite face.
If colony is a wound what will heal it?
After such injuries
what difference do we feel?
No answer in the air,
on the water, in the distance.
emblem of this old,
torn and traded city,
altered by its river, its weather,
I turn to you as if there were –
one flawed head towards another.
-Eavan Boland, from The Lost Land