Going Home!

Tomorrow I will pack my two youngest,
into the car,
and we will drive off to Dublin,
to stay with my mum for a few days.small__7419838838

Even though I left Dublin,
over twenty five years ago,
to live 200km away in Cork,
with my husband and subsequent children,
I still say when I head to Dublin that,
I am going home!

When I drive up the avenue,
a million memories will bubble under the surface.
I will hear my friends,
from bygone days,
playing chase on the road.
I will pass the wall,
that I crashed my brothers brand new bike into.
It wrecked his bike,
and I broke my nose!
I will see the trees I was not allowed to climb,
but did so daily!

Then I will drive in my familiar driveway,
and enter home.
My mum will be there to welcome me.
She is smaller now,
but still a ball of energy.
Her warm embrace and welcome,
fill my heart.

We will then head into the kitchen,small_509941687
the heart of my home.
Much of the kitchen presses were made,
by my Dad, who is dead a long time now.
My mom moves with the times,
so our kitchen does not live in the past,
yet it still inspires memories in me.

As I sit there,
I replay so much of my youth.
I will hear the noises of my family rowing.
I will see my Dad joking around with my Mum.
I will remember how most of the neighbours children,
liked to gather in our house.

When I go upstairs to my old bedroom,
I will travel back in time once more.
Here I pretended to study.
Lying on the bed I dreamed of my wedding.
It was in this room I could be alone in a busy house.

I can also remember,
when for a time I lost my home.
My Dad had been sick for two years.
He had Motor Neuron Disease.
We looked after him,
and despite his illness,
the house was a very happy one.

Then my Dad died.
The loss of his presence was enormous.
My home was changed forever.
My home had always been my Mum and Dad.
Now it was just Mum.

I tried to stay away as much as I could.
There was no urge to return.
No joy in the house.

However, over time my amazing mum dug deep.small__7473450054
She got through her own grief,
and continued to parent us all.
She created a new home.
It is just as welcoming,
and filled with joy as it once was.
When my brothers and sisters arrive,
we are a family again.
Time has barely passed.
The old arguments continue.
My Mum oversees everything.
It is a place I love to be.

So tomorrow when I head to dublin,
I have no problem saying
I am going HOME.

A note to those who care,
I may miss posting the next few days.
My mum is great company,
A lot of tea will be consumed,
family will call,
and I will enjoy being home!

photo credit: hz536n/George Thomas via
photo credit: Epyon MX via photopin cc
photo credit: pcgn7 via photopin cc

19 thoughts on “Going Home!

  1. Very well written, 1tric. Enjoy your time with your Mum in Dublin. We’ll surely miss your posts….the blogosphere will not be the same until you return. Have a safe trip homeward bound, and have a good one!

  2. Funny, I feel the same about edinburgh. I was born and raised there until I left to go to Uni. Since then I have lived in many different places in Scotland, emigrated to Canada and lived there for a few years, and now have been living in Birmingham longer than ever I lived in Edinburgh. I still think of Edinburgh as ‘home’ though and get really emotional when I return for a visit. Strangely enough, my friends here in England make the same distinction between where I live now and where my home is – often asking if I plan to return home (to Edinburgh) when I retire. I guess it’s those memories (good and bad) of our growing years that create the special bond that makes a place forever ‘home’ to us no matter the distance in time or space we are removed from it ?

    1. Yes. Over here everyone is identified by the county they were born in. Even if you only lived there a short time. So even though I sound more like a corkonian, I will forever be known as a Dub. And I would hate not to be!

    2. My wife well understood my strong ties to the land of my birth and often encouraged me to maintain those links

      Many a time she would turn to me and say . . .

      Why don’t you b*gger off home ?

      before bouncing a teacup off my head πŸ˜†

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