My son comes home from college for the Easter break. I pick him up at the bus station. I think I'm listening to Miles Davis or I wish I was listening to Miles. Maybe it's a rehash. I can't quite tell. I can tell you it is chaotic at the bus station. The engineer should be sacked for building a place that requires mucho traffic at all times of the day and night without considering footfall and traffic fall. I mean I park on a double yellow. Heave my bug up onto the kerb. Break all the rules. But I don't really care. All I care about is seeing my son emerge from the Celtic Tiger glass building that no longer looks Celtic Tiger. Instead it looks sad and almost vulgar.
He does emerge. He looks tired. He carries a big bag of laundry. He also looks hungry. I stop at the store on the way home. Buy sourdough. Irish Emmental. Baked Ham. Toasted sandwiches always soothe the weary traveller. I wish I had made some soup but I was busy today running back and forth. Tomorrow is another day.
We talk in the car. Comment on the gleam of silver off the bay. Discuss his siblings. He asks about his Dad. I touch him. I can't help it. I have missed him over these past few months. I did see him last week but the city is so chaotic. It was brief. There is so much to talk about. His trip to the USA this May. His new passport. His studies. His philosphy.
The bluest day welcomes him home. I mean bluest of skies and the billowing fresh new clothes line to hang all his clothes out on and the new air in from the bog and everything all a changing like someone wiped the blackboard and said it's all yours. That's the way I feel these days. Like anything is possible. And all the chairs at the dinner table filled. Now that's something you cannot buy. Why a year ago there was a chance that one of my sons would not be here today and now here they are each one my joy. Sorry for sounding the cutesie type but I'm not a bit. True. I am more aware than that but there has to be nothing more complete than a gathering of family to eat the food on the plate. To savour. Discuss. Share. Express fear, loss, hope and doubt. For this I am grateful on this day. I am fed in more ways than food can ever give me and the candle burns gracefully, like something that will never reach to the end and even when it does it burns out beautifully, like it's been worth the long journey even though the destination is never even considered.