Written in These Walls

I stand looking out the kitchen window watching the sheets flap wildly in the wind. I lean forward a little to look to the west and see the reason for the sheets snapping, an impending storm. A dark wall of clouds is quickly approaching, a roll of thunder in the distance, a quick flicker of lightning riding piggy back on the clouds. I turn and walk to the laundry room, grab the laundry basket off the washer and head outside. I fight the sheets and the wind as I take them down. I feel a definite difference in the temperature in a matter of minutes, the thunder getting louder, more lightning. Dirt and dust precede the storm, thankful the sheets will not have to be washed again.

I barely make it inside before the bottom falls out. The wind makes the rain look as though it is coming in side ways. The thunder rattles the panes in the windows, you can almost feel the rumble through the hardwood floor. I run through the house closing windows that were opened earlier, letting in fresh air. I grab a towel and wipe up any rain that might have blown in.

I stand in front of the screen door that leads to the front porch and watch it rain. I love the sound and smells of rain. The sound can easily lull me to sleep. I close my eyes and a slight shiver runs down my spine, the days temperatures quite noticeably lower than an hour ago. Lightening strikes awfully close making me jump, I retreat further inside the house, turn, get the sheets and head to the back to begin putting them back on the beds.

I watch it rain through the windows as I make the beds. Small streams forming through the grass carrying away dust and pollen. A loud snap brings me back. I look towards the drive as a Bradford Pear tree is split in two, unable to withstand the wind and rain simultaneously. That tree will have to be cut down, a new one put in its place. As beautiful as the tress are, they are weak and when their flowers bloom, stink.

I live in a small town, a farming town, a town not too far from an Army military base. My dad is retired military. He works as a civilian on the base, my mother works on the base also, in the commissary. She was never enlisted but was able to work on base because of my father. This is the base he retired out of and decided to just stay in the area.

I am standing in their house. I’m at a crossroad in my life. I went to college and got a degree in Early Childhood Education and taught for two years. One morning last spring I woke up and knew there had to be more in life than what I was living. I was too young to already be in a rut. I was at the end of my contract and decided not to commit to another year. I called my parents and told them of my dilemma. Although concerned, they said they supported whatever I chose to do. The first weekend of the summer they knocked on my door ready to help me move out. I moved back home. It has not been easy but they have been my rock, my steady because right now, I don’t know what I want to do.

I've taken up blogging, which has helped me sort through my feelings and awakened my love for writing. I write mostly as a journal, nothing too serious, my life is not serious. I question the need for adventure, but know that would take me out of these four walls and leave me vulnerable, exposed, out of my comfort zone.

In town there is a used book store that I frequent so much that the owners will hold onto books they think I might like as they come in. I have discovered that I have no particular genre that I stick to. I love suspense and romance but also love history and biographies. Classics and old English literature are all appealing just the same. I am like a sponge, it is never enough. I see the landscape of Gone With the Wind as well as the English countryside in Pride and Prejudice. I sigh at the thought of true love and hope that it will find me some day. I want it all, love, romance, spontaneity, laughter, dancing and all the foolishness that goes with it. I want to feel like a giddy school girl, butterflies and sweaty palms. I want to be swept of my feet, blinded by love, always up in the clouds. I often laugh at myself at how immature it all sounds, but isn't that what every girl wants?

I’ve searched often for different careers that I can use with my degree, but I want something more. I feel as though I need to fly, live free. I need to find whatever it is I am looking for, looking for me.


I hear my parents car pull up under the awning and listen as their footsteps near the side door, it opens and they come in, laughing. I smile to myself, I want that someday.
I step out of the room and walk towards them, I catch them in a kiss and tell them to get a room. Yes, that’s what I want.

I am an only child. I’ve never been lonely, though, yes when I was younger I always wanted a younger sibling. Now, I wish I had one for company and to share life with them.

My parents had a whirlwind romance, very typical of young service men that are sent over seas. He has been stationed in several different countries, the first time he ended up in the United Kingdom, Scotland to be exact.
On leave for the weekend some buddies and he decided to go to Ireland. There in a pub, he met my mother. It was her parents pub, they lived above it, she was helping tend it that night. They talk of it as it was love at first sight, he at the bar, her waiting tables, their eyes meet and sparks flew. He ended up ditching his friends for her for the rest of the weekend. He returned to Scotland with her number and a promise he would be back the next chance he got. He kept that promise. He was stationed there two years. At the end of two years he proposed to her but had to leave her in Ireland until his orders were finalized. Once he was settled, she joined him in the States and they got married. Then there was me, nine months later. She was terribly homesick not used to the new lifestyle she was having to live. Hence my name, Ireland.
When people meet me for the first time the question always asked is if I’m from Ireland, my response is the same every time, “My mother is”.

We’ve pretty much grown up together seeing as though she is only 19 years older than me. It's always been the two of us. We've traveled all the world with my dad and his military career. Many times we've lived on base, just the two of us, while he was in a non disclosed location somewhere in the world. The memories of him suddenly being home are pictured in my mind as if they were on a movie screen, the laughing, crying and hugging. When he was gone, it was the not knowing and the insecurity I always felt, I could never imagine how it must have felt for my mom.


A phone ringing at 3:30 in the morning is never a good thing. Hearing my mother frantically thinking a loud is also not good. Her mother is gravely ill and it doesn’t look like she will recover is all I can make out. The thought of why someone has not called sooner goes through my mind and irritates me but I know it is nothing that can be solved now, I'll wait til in the morning. I go back to sleep.

The next morning my dad goes into work, mom stays at home and makes arrangements to go home.
We’ve been to Ireland a couple of times but I was younger and really don’t remember much of it. She hasn’t been back home in quite some time and I can tell is rather anxious about returning. I offer to help make the arrangements, she gets up and I take a seat. She paces the floor behind me, making me nervous.
“Do I need to go with you Mom?” I ask as she makes her way back towards the desk. She stops, looks at me and surprisingly says, “Yes. Yes You do”. That was not the answer I wanted. I wanted , ‘no dear that’s fine, I can manage on my own’. I mentally hit my head on a brick wall. It's not that I don't want to go or don't want to go with my mom, I'm just quite happy where I am. Yes, that rut again, but this rut is comfortable.
I open the tab back up and begrudgingly type in another ticket. I can not believe what luck I am having today. I slide my hands down my face as she turns around, her pacing now stopped, she goes to the hall closet and retrieves the luggage. I can not believe what I just did to myself.

The rest of the day I sort laundry and pack, mentally trying to prepare myself for whatever it is I am about to get myself into.


I hear my dad walk down the hall and towards my room, I'd know his footsteps anywhere, military, almost marching, deliberate. I look at the clock and realize the day has gone by almost too fast, I had no idea how late it had gotten.

“You don’t know how much it means to me and your mother that you are going back home with her. I actually think you will enjoy this trip. Maybe this is what you need to reset. Stay as long as you need, find whatever it is you are looking for. This is your heritage, your bound to find part of you there. Visit the small towns, sight see, do what the locals do. Just go and unwind, relax, it will come to you.” He turns and walks back down the hall.

I exhale and decide he might be right. I might as well make the best out of a bad situation. That rut I had wanted out of, just put me in another. I need to step out of my comfort zone.

We are not set to leave until tomorrow and I decide there are a few things I need to go to town and pick up.I grab a sheet of paper off of my desk and write the things down. I lean my head out of my room and yell down the hall to see if my mom needs me to pick up anything for her, she answers with no.
I slide on my keds, grab my purse, keys and head out the door. I turn up the radio and roll down the windows, maybe driving will give me more clarity.

I arrive back at the house after being only gone a little over an hour. I picked up a couple of books on Ireland and a journal to keep a record of where I go and what I see, maybe even get to experience a few things.


The next morning we wake up early, eat breakfast and are taken to the airport by my dad. He helps us in with our bags and hugs me good bye. I watch as my mother cries on his shoulder, they hate to be apart from each other. We board the plane find our seats and before I know it, we are air born.

I watch my mother as she tries to get comfortable. I wonder why she is so anxious. As far as I know things between her and her family were fine but I could have missed something or just not been told due to my age.

I put in the ear phones, get comfortable and watch her through my peripheral vision to make sure she settles down. We are of the same mind as we settle in our seats and nod off to sleep.

I wake up before she does and look out the window at the clouds and blue below us. I like a plan and there is none. I like structure, sitting at a hospital will be the death of me. It's not that I don't care, I just feel no emotional connection to that side of the family. Have they tried to reach out to us or is there bad blood between some of them?

I turn to look at my mom as she fidgets in her seat, close to waking. I love her wavy auburn hair, I got my dads sandy blonde. She has pale skin that burns easily so she lathers herself in sun block nine out of twelve months, which in turns makes her look much younger than forty-three. I also thankfully got my dad’s skin tone, but my favorite feature of my mom, I got, her piercing green eyes. I smile as her eyes open and her lips part into a smile. Her hand covers mine and we lean towards each other, our heads touch.

“What happened between you and your family?” I ask somewhat timidly.
“They pretty much accused your father of taking me away from them. Blaming him for me not coming to see them, even though we offered to pay for their tickets to come see us, you. It's such a long old story and one that never ends. Once someone gets tired of arguing, another will pick it up.”

I frown as I squeeze her hand, her eyes looking away, trying to will away the pooling of tears on the lower lid. I watch her bite her lip to keep it from quivering, my heart breaks. Seeing her this way breaks my heart. I've always seen her as the strongest person I know, this has shown her in a different light, almost human. I had put her on a pedestal my entire life, nothing could faze her, she had a solution for everything.

Before I leave Ireland, a solution to this problem would be found. I never want to see my mom like this again.

The pilots voice comes over the intercom, a flight attendant walks through as we prepare for touch down. Butterflies fill my stomach, I'm about to step off this plane into a different country, out of my comfort zone.

Hopefully to push the reset button on my life.

Notes

And her it is my lovelies.
Stay tuned to see who else is searching . . .