I thought it much safer to cross the strand on foot. I didn’t think of rising tides, timing or tables. We simply set off and I hoped I wasn’t leading my whole family into an abyss. Rob’s long legs carried him far out ahead of the pack. In the distance I could make out the orange stripe of his jacket and the blue visor of the baseball cap he wore flipped around backwards on his head. He wound his way around boulders and buoys, around a set of soccer goals and nets. I waded through more puddles, and when my sneakers finally became heavy and sodden, I stopped, pulling off my shoes and socks, and took up the journey barefoot.
This is a very powerful reflection, Mary. Thank you for sharing it with us. As a lady of Irish ancestry who has walked across many graveyards in Ireland I felt like I was with you, soggy shoes and all ☘️!
Your narrative is so lush, dare I say almost poetic. I want the book.
This is a very powerful reflection, Mary. Thank you for sharing it with us. As a lady of Irish ancestry who has walked across many graveyards in Ireland I felt like I was with you, soggy shoes and all ☘️!
Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you!
Beautiful!
Happy St Patrick ‘s Day!
And Happy St. Patrick’s Day to you Mary! Lovingly written.