I'm in the banquet room at the Rodd, sitting off by myself, alone, because I can't trust my emotion not to give way in front of the others. Matilda Murdoch is playing the fiddle. I'm transported back in time to 1600's Ireland. I'm moved to tears. I may have to leave. I feel heart ache, starvation, death -- I feel it in my very core. These are my people. I'm Irish and for the first time I feel it. I really feel it. Like I'm at a wedding, like we could all break out in a reel or jig. Like I could be dressed in a hoop skirt and tight bodice. It's sadness. It's pain. It runs in my blood. It's pure beauty.
This is love.
This is death.
This is life.
Mood: Out of space and time
Drinking: Merlot & Bud Light (not simultaneously)
Listening To: Matilda Murdoch on the fiddle . . . Oh danny boy
Hair: Done up real purty like
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1 comment:
Hey there all, just a note from Pete Murdoch. Aunt Mattie's the genuine article alright--footloose and fancy free on that fiddle there. She's a sight to see.
One of her smiles is worth the stars in the sky. And all it takes to get on of them out of her is to grab a spare colleen and spin her around the living room a bit.
Amen.
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