I’ve never made much of Saint Patrick’s Day. I don’t much like beer and I wear green all the time. Yet I always think about my great-grandmother, nanny, who was Irish to the core: blazing blue eyes, a wicked tongue, Rosalia Redfern Grady, didn’t like men & lived to be 98 years old. She adored her grand girls, her squirrels and Days Of Our Lives. I always think of her on this day.
Two days ago, I found this beautiful Echo scarf covered in clover. Today I am wearing green with a smile, while I think of her.
Even Zephyr got to pose. He looks like he’s wearing an ascot. Nanny would have adored Zephyr.
I wish I had her here now that I am older, much older, now that I am ready to appreciate her, sit with her, listen to her stories, take her for long walks, slowly, in the park. I hate that I was too busy being a teenager when she was alive. I hate that I wasn’t there for her.
I took Zephyr for a long walk today, even though I am ankle-deep in paper work, behind in a dozen different projects, laundry, house cleaning, bills. And later, I’m going to take him for another walk, even longer. Today is it. It’s all I have. It’s all Zephyr has. It’s all I can wrap my mind around. Dear Nanny, I miss you. Happy St. Patrick’s Day.