She

First female football player in the village
Had her hat pulled off
Revealing the long blonde hair
That she was comfortable with
Yanked it out of the hand
Putting it back on
Without missing a beat
Fresh out of school
Straight into a job
Helping people and scrubbing floors
Until she was told that’s all she’ll ever be
So she got up and quit
Booked a ticket to Australia
Without telling her father
Returned home to join the force
Meeting like minded people
Who wanted to help and have fun
Being told she was too manly for a man
Becoming an overachiever
Leaving the place with a future husband
Defying gender roles
Without denying her womanhood

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Happy Belated Birthday

I work myself up
Thinking
Overthinking
Remembering everything that happened
Or everything you did

Guilt fills me
When you pop into my mind
Over a memory we shared
Or a place we never went to

Dark days with gloomy thoughts
Are spent rehearsing my apology
For nothing that I know
But saved just in case

Every time I think I’m over you
I never thought I was
Never thinking I would reach the point
Of forgetting your birthday

An aimless trip online today
Reminds me of the date
But not of you
And my relief is almost funny

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Dear February

Dear February,

I really missed you February. You have always been the sign of growth and renewal and this year has provided space for that. I am in the process of healing from a cold winter, and your spring time has offered me a warm embrace, welcoming me once again.

This time four years ago I started my blog. To celebrate my Four year blog-a-versary I wrote and published a post each day. And February, the feedback to it has been absolutely incredible. I have gained more followers in this month than I have in the past four, and I’ve received so many wonderful comments that I can hardly keep up with them. My readers have helped me to heal just as much as you have February. I don’t think I could thank either of you enough.

Of course there was some dark clouds this month, but only a couple. Some days were more gloomy than others, but you are just the beginning of a new year. This may not seem too significant, but I feel I have put myself out there more and started to allow myself to be okay. To be honest with you February, I was probably more upset this month than usual. That probably contrasts to everything I just said. But I didn’t mind. It was so much better than just feeling numb. I allowed myself to get out anything I wanted to because I knew sunshine would come the next morning. I was able to relax because I had trust in you to welcome and comfort me each day I needed it February.

Personally, I thought I helped others to grow this month. I made myself more available to those who I knew would do the same for me. I started to talk more to those around me who felt like I had closed them off. I encouraged people to work together and now I have a core group of class friends who I can really rely on in my most crucial part of my degree.
February, you helped me to realise that I grow most when I’m watering others.

I need to thank everyone who has not been annoyed by my blog showing up in their reader each day. I need to thank any new followers who took the time to make my day a bit brighter by clicking a button. I need to thank anyone who stumbled across my little space here on the internet.

I need to thank you, February. You were there when I needed you most. You always have been.

All my love,
Eimear
(P.S. I can’t wait to see you again)

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Immortalised Memories

One of my favourite stories growing up was one that my aunt told me.
I come from a big family of twelve(ish) aunts and uncles and uncountable extended family members. My mum is ranked as the youngest girl, and I’m her youngest.
My aunt Mary is the oldest girl in the family, with two of my uncles before her. Despite the age gap my mum would consider her one of her siblings she’s most close to.
I never got to meet my grandparents, but my favourite story of Mary’s is one she told of them when she was born.
My granddad had just had his first pint after the birth of his first daughter. Chuffed at himself, he sipped away happily and content on his own.

One of the locals came in and said to my granddad:
“Ah Brendan, I just saw your two sons on the way here”
Without batting an eye, my granddad replied:
“Yes. But have you seen my daughter?”

The way my aunt tells it just almost transports me back in time. It’s a story that I genuinely would never get tired of hearing as it brings me a feeling of closeness to the grandparents I never had the privilege of meeting.

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House Fairies

Fairies have always been a popular creature in Ireland with Irish folklore. I’ve grown up with different interpretations of fairies, and visited many of the different landmarks around Ireland that cater to the fairy folk.

My dad used to bring me home any book he could get his hands on because he knew, just like him, I would read anything. He would buy from charity shops and practically bring the same books back the next day to donate again. To this day I still think it’s the best way to read as many books as possible. So although I can’t thank him for bringing home the greatest literature of the century, I can always thank him for bringing me the love of reading as much as possible. I enjoyed all the books of course, but it was mostly light reading that could be read and passed on.

For my mum, reading was a very different experience. She would never read something that she knew she wouldn’t enjoy and would stop reading a book if it bored her or if anything else bothered her about it. However, she is responsible for introducing me to some of my favourite books that will always stay with me. My dad never knew what to pick out for me, which broadened my types of novels I read. But my mum knew what to look for and every once in a while she would arrive home with a book that would capture my heart.

One of these books was about a ‘faery’ named  Knife. Researching it today for this post, I discovered it was only the beginning of a series called Faery Rebels.  I had never heard of the book or author when I first got it, but it intrigued me so much. My “reading ego” was a bit high, so I wasn’t too impressed when my mum brought me a book that I had never heard of before, but after reading it I was almost mad at myself for almost being too stubborn to read it. Looking back on it, it probably does have a weird story line that wouldn’t stand out to me now. But it was just something completely different to anything I had ever read before.

I raved about it a lot to anyone who would listen, and got all of my friends interested in this mysterious new book. Although I never had the “fairy phase” growing up of Irish folklore or pretty little colourful fairies, I had a new understanding of them.

Also, it became a joke in my house that everything that happened was because of the group of faeries now living in the house. To this day we would refer to the “Water Faery” who never returns water bottles to the kitchen, or the “Shoe Faery” who steals my mothers shoes that conveniently always end up in my bedroom…

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Falling

Falling in love has been as easy as falling to me
It’s not

I’m tall so I don’t have to wear heels
My confidence doesn’t come from having someone else to support me

I hate the idea of everyone looking at you being vulnerable
Exposing so much of myself to one person is unthinkable to me

The thought of not being able to control my own body is terrifying
Or having someone else want to be near it is just as bad

To fail at something so simple as walking is demoralising
So my brain tells me that it’s not worth it

I’m concentrating so much on my feet that I have forgotten to look up
I forget that I should just be naturally able to do it

I’ve never been a clumsy person
But sometimes I wish I was

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