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The Girl Who Came Home(94)

By:Hazel Gaynor






November 1911

You told me today that you’d written to your Aunt Kathleen in America to see whether she’ll be coming home for the Christmas. I know you’d like to see her, but I can’t help but be worryin that she’ll come and want to be taking you back to America with her. What with all her fancy notions of life there and all her talk of there being nothing to keep a young woman in Ireland, I’m afraid she’ll take you away from me Maggie. I hope I’m wrong. I don’t know what would become of me if you left.





December 1911

Do you remember the snow Maggie? The drifts against the fences and walls are as big as some as the houses. I haven’t seen you for days and days what with the roads and tracks being blocked up. I’ve never seen snow like it in my life and neither has Da. He says when it snows like this, it means there’ll be a change coming in the New Year. I asked him what sort of a change. He just said ‘a change’. I’m worried for his health. The cold air makes him cough something awful day and night. He coughs so hard sometimes I think his lungs will burst out of his stomach altogether. I am miserable sitting in the cold cottage, listening to Da’s retching and not seeing you. I can’t imagine what life would be without you now Maggie. You make me so happy I sometimes feel like the biggest fool the way I fuss and moon over you so. I hope I didn’t embarrass you when I told you that I loved you. Because I do, you see. Very, very much and I feel better for letting you know it.





Maggie’s heart raced as she absorbed the words, remembering everything Séamus had written and described of the time they had spent together in Ballysheen as if it were yesterday and not seventy years ago. She could almost sense him in the room now, could almost feel his weathered, labourer’s hands brushing against hers, feel his breath on her neck. She shivered and continued reading.





January 1912

Your aunt came for Christmas Maggie. She is all talk of America and I’m sure she’ll be fillin that pretty head of yours with tales of skyscrapers and fancy hats and shoes. She’ll have you sailing away from me on a steam ship before the New Year is out, I just know it. I know she doesn’t mind me being around the house sometimes though – I’m pleased to be of some use to her by fixin things or bringing supplies from the market when she can’t travel herself. I like to try to impress her you see Maggie. I want her to know that I’m a good, reliable man who will always love you and protect you. Da’s coughing is worse and worse with the hard winter we’re having. The doctor says it’s something called emphazeemer (I’m not sure if that’s the right spellin at all) – and that I should be praying for an early spring. The warmer weather will help him, he says. There’s not much else that can be done for him now.





April 1912

Maggie, you are leaving. My worst fears are come true and you are going off to America with all the others. I know you wish I could come with you, and I hope you know how quickly I’d jump on board that ship with you if I could, but Da is too sick to travel and too sick for me to leave him here. There’s been some amount of crying and wailing in Ballysheen - sometimes it feels to me that ye have all died what with these ‘American Wakes’ they are holding and all the drinking and praying and passing around of the Holy Water. It frightens me Maggie, so it does – I’m not ashamed to tell ye. I sat by Da’s bedside all day and night today – afraid to do anything else in case I saw you and hid you in our cellar until they’ve all gone off in the carts. I thought a terrible thing while I sat there. I wished my own Da dead, so that I might come with you Maggie. Isn’t that the worst thing you ever did hear – a son wishing his own father dead so he can be free of the burden of looking after him and sail off to a better future? I said twenty Hail Marys after thinking such a dark thought and am sure I could feel Ma frowning at me from up above, God rest her.





10th April 1912

Today you leave. I don’t know what to write anymore. I think I have used up all the words I will write in my lifetime and you have them all here to keep with you as you sail across the ocean to the New World. I’ll never forget your beautiful face Maggie, your eyes sparkling at me that night we danced at the Brennans’ wedding, or the way your hair blows about your face in the wind. I will always wait for you under the blossom tree on a Wednesday and I’ll keep doing that until you come back. I’ll wait for you Maggie – and I want you to come back home soon. I need you to come back to me, because I want to be with you all my life. I want to make a good husband for you Maggie. I want you to be my wife.