Here's a small extract from HOMECOMING
to whet your appetite...
BALLYBEG 2015
Some memories never want to let us go. Those special memories sneak into our mind at unexpected moments, and there they linger, never to be forgotten remembrances. They tease us, and they cling, like barnacles attached to a wooden pier, under the water, hidden, out of sight until the tide turns. These precious memories belong to us alone. At least that’s what Annie Kelly thought of these phantom teasers, for Annie was all full up with memory now. Many years ago, she had told herself that some of her very own particular memories were best kept secret, just like those barnacles. She huddled these days in front of the turf fire, bunched up, weary and old, with her worn Connemara shawl wrapped around her thin shoulders. The shawl was a memory. She held the wool against her cheek; the warmth was still there, and it brought comfort in the memory of it. Bernard had given her the shawl their first year of marriage, another lifetime away. Often, it was hard to remember Bernard’s face. This worried her. She thought of his brother, Mick at times like this. It was easier. Mick’s face was clearer. But more often than not, it was her third son, Oisin that she thought of the most.