Heading out to Forest Knolls, and stepping back into the magical realm of my childhood, for a bittersweet reunion with all the cousins (who just want out) in order to eventually sell my home, my grandmother's home—to strangers. I don't know how I'll bear it, the loss, so profound, it's an acute physical pain. My last refuge. Many people have moved, sold their family homes etc, with little sense of loss. I feel torn apart and bruised from head to toe. What solace is there? How do people do it? A fair bit of Irish history there, nearly 100 years... Liam Mallows and Eamon De Valera in our lower field. Who else from the 1916 uprising took refuge at our house in Forest Knolls?
The facebook comments are an amazing tribute to this post.
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