I caught a glimpse of the moon today, I almost mistook it for a tiny lonesome, almost perfectly formed cloud. The morning sun was low and blinding in the sky stretching out its faintly warming streak on the rippled sands of Sandymount and the poor moon, I pitied and admired it all at once. There it was, holding its own, guarding its own small holding in the sky like a
frightened but defiant warrior queen in the face of a big armoured god.
I thought of all the soldiers, freedom fighters, victims and activists who’ve gone before us so that I could stand on a Irish Republic shore unaccompanied by a man, in running gear, with my dogs running wild, my daughter in a safe school and food in my kitchen and I thought, the moon has seen some shit and I’m bloody lucky to be here.
I thought of my Grandad who cycled with stones and hurls to the beach as part of the Local Defence Force during the Emergency in case of invasion. I looked at the beautiful vastness of Dublin Bay and imagined the joys and heartaches and everything in between playing out between Howth and Dun Laoghaire and thought to myself, how bad I am, to be here, on this day, awake.
Then I came home and made a smoothie. But I’d much prefer waffles.