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“The very reason I write is so that I might not sleepwalk through my entire life.”
Zadie Smith
Big Creek, Cool Depths
When Will You Drink From Me Again? I arrive at midnight, bursting from an angry cloud and startled like a child awakened by thunder. Illuminated in a sheet of lightening, I descend in a torrent through the woods and land in the creek with a heavy plop, surrounded by dancing…
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23 Kilos of Imagination
I recently travelled with a 23-kilo suitcase from Europe to rural Canada. It took seven legs of transportation. Some stations didn’t have a lift. Or the gap aboard was wide. Or the bag on the carousel was a back-breaking arm’s reach. A women in her forties came up behind me…
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The Best of Irish Men
Dear Kevin, I found you! Almost four months later. At the university bus stop, on the E2. My usual bus. The day was sunny so I almost vied to walk home, then changed my mind. I also almost took a whole other route to Dun Laoghaire. More than one almost. Your bus pulled up well…
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Geography of Pathlessness
As soon as I dumped my bags, I went straight up the hill to the web of paths that worm ways atop the Cotswold escarpment. I did not know my route like the back of my hand. I took a path and felt into it. I searched for signs of…
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Beautiful Irish Man
Dear Kevin, One month ago today, I accosted you at Dublin airport at 5h00 something. You wore a reflective vest, so I thought you worked there. I was punchy after a long flight. The airport yawned in the early hours. It didn’t notice me, just another baggage-laden traveller with a…
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How I became a bleeding heart
Are the Irish Different? I’m in Ireland, studying, and taking a class called: Are the Irish Different? A clever leading question. Yes, of course they are. As an enquiry into Irish identity, the question is really: how are the Irish are different? English rule over Ireland began in the C12th with…
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Take Heart in Ageing
Our relationship with time. As we age, our future shrinks. In our youth, we feel wealthy with a vast future ahead of us. It makes us happy. When we get older, we feel the loss, even if we had some great fun in the past. It’s because humans have a…
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Word with a sideward glance
There are not many ways of talking about positive ageing without sounding like you’re arguing. That’s how loud the cultural ageing narrative is. You cannot escape ageing clichés—socially, online, in the Hallmark aisle, and through jokes, songs, films and stories. It gets in everyone’s head, including children’s. Aside from a…
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Narrating Death
Elle died last week, 25 days after being told she had a month. During that time, Elle choreographed her dying with a constant flow of friends and acquaintances. Close ones came to sit with her for hours. Neighbours popped by with treats and a hug. I had good long days…
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Elle and I
My friend Elle, from two blogs ago, has less than three months of life on earth. This is Day 3. We started in the laundry room of a wilderness park. We were campers—Elle and her partner in a little trailer, I, tenting. Different sections of the park. I went to…
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The Slow and the Swift Under the Sun
It is spring and the gardens are edged. Eight years of tending them, jubilantly gouging new beds out of unwanted lawn, planting native drought-resistance giving forth in time, from buds to bushes. I only met Chat GPT online about six months ago, and I have come to rely on it.…
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Consciousness Cannot Fathom Death
When I was very young, on the occasion of the death of a neighbour’s pet, my clever sister declared during a family dinner: ‘We’re all dying. Every day.’ Her statement is technically correct, isn’t it. Her use of the present continuous was, and is, the most suitable tense. Dying is a…
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What Problem Was solved?
Elle and I were walking along the front road that flanks the Great Lake in a county at the end of the last mile. We ran into Anna with her dog and walked together. The wind bit hard. It was nearly April and spring was in the light but not…
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One Thing Will Never Be The Same
The duck I saw on the road today had only one foot. The footless leg dangled down from the duck’s girth like a chopstick, thin and straight. Seeing a duck along the Great Lake is not unusual, but this one was so fully aware of my presence that I became…
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Last Nights are Laden with Meaning
On my last night in London—Jan 30 2025 (I mention the date to give a snapshot of what was going on in North America and rippling across the world)—I went out for dinner with the kids: my son Gregory and partner Camila. Greg booked a restaurant he knew I loved…
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Valerie Hickey, Writer 