The Girl Who Came Home(104)
For all the passing of time and the changes in how people lived, there was a sense of history retained by the people of this town. She had seen it with her very eyes on the engraved stone slab in the church and at the remembrance bell. It comforted her to know that she, her aunt and all the others were not forgotten, not ignored, but were remembered and commemorated for the life they had led here and for the courage and fortitude they had shown in daring to leave it all behind in search of something better.
*
As the light of the afternoon sun began to fade, there was just one place left which Maggie wished to visit. It was a long walk so she asked Jimmy if they could return to the car. From their parking spot at the church, she navigated from memory, down a side road which led in a slight incline towards the foot of the mountain. Half-way along the road, she asked Jimmy to stop.
‘I won’t be long,’ she said, getting slowly out of the car and walking through the gate which blocked the entrance to the field. She looked about her from right to left and waited for a moment before returning to the car, closing the gate behind her.
‘Were you hoping to see something else Maggie?’ Grace asked tentatively.
‘I was dear, yes. This is where Séamus used to live with his father. It would seem that the house has disappeared without a trace. There’s no sign of it, no trace at all. Well, never mind,’ she continued. ‘It cannot be undone now.’
Returning to the lake to eat the few provisions they had bought in the local shops, Maggie decided to stay in the car, letting the cool, early evening breeze drift in through the open window while Grace and Jimmy stretched out easily on the coats spread on the grass. Maggie momentarily envied their youth and the ease at which they could move their bodies from a sitting to a lying to a standing position. Things you take for granted when you’re in the flush of youth, she supposed, biting into the freshly baked soda bread, savouring every mouthful.
She watched silently as the young couple strolled happily down to the lakeside, scouring the ground for the perfect skimming stone, laughing and joking as their various attempts succeeded or failed. It reminded Maggie very much of herself and Séamus and the many, many happy times they had spent at this very spot, doing exactly the same. From the back, Grace could almost be Maggie, except Grace’s hair tumbled around her shoulders in a way that Maggie’s never had. She laughed at this memory of her obsession with her hair. And as for Jimmy, he could easily be mistaken for Séamus; the same broad shoulders, stocky build and tousled, fair hair. How easily those two people could be us, lost in time, she thought.
As she watched her great grand-daughter now with a man she clearly adored, she was proud of the choices and decisions she had taken in her life; was proud of her family and proud to be able to call this place home.
*
As dusk fell, they drove out of Ballysheen towards the guest house they’d arranged to stay in nearby.
They were silent in the car, each taking in everything they had seen that day. Grace was so moved watching Maggie walking around the broken ruins of her homes, and the homes of those she had known so well and had been touched by the way the parish remembered the Titanic victims. These were her relatives too. This was the land her ancestors had worked in their struggle for survival. She felt grounded by it, by being able to stand amid the bricks and stones where they had once baked their daily bread. And yet she was still a little unsure whether it had been the right thing to do bringing Maggie back here, and was a little worried about Maggie’s reactions and her silence since they’d left.
‘So, how do you feel having seen it all again Maggie?’ she asked, leaning forward from the back seat so Maggie could hear her over the sound of the car engine.
Maggie considered the question for a moment. ‘I’ve been thinking that myself dear and do you know something, I’m glad. I’m glad I came back to see for myself and yes it’s a little sad to see the homes all fallen about themselves, but what could I expect really after seventy years? It didn’t matter somehow. I could still feel the spirit of the place and just by touching those fallen stones, I feel that I’ve reached out to everyone I knew; that I’ve touched them again somehow. It’s as if they never left – as if they’re still there among all the weeds and the rubble. How do I feel? Peaceful, I think. Yes, peaceful.’
‘I’m so sorry that Séamus’ home wasn’t there,’ Grace added. ‘I know you’d have liked to see it.’
‘Yes, it is a shame, but after all this time no surprise I suppose. The farmer who owns that land now wasn’t to know that an old lady would come back one day looking for the home of a man who used to live there so many years ago.’