St. Paddy's Day was always a busy weekend for my large Irish family. Back in the day, there was Irish dancing, bagpiping, drumming, an iconic green river, parade appearances and plenty of eating and drinking with family and friends over the course of many local celebrations in Chicago. Our parents and grandparents instilled a great pride in our heritage and we pursued lessons in Irish music and dance for most of our young lives, with St. Paddy's Day presenting some of the best opportunities for showcasing our talents. That was many years ago. Now, I liken St. Patrick's Day to New Year's Eve: festive and preferably enjoyed at home.
I was folding clothes this week on my bed and when I put the last of the laundry away, a lone shamrock was left under the pile. It had been an unusually sad day for me, and the sight of this green clover made me believe in miracles. I was overwhelmed with comfort and at a complete loss to understand where this may have come from. Although, as an intuitive Irish lass, I have my suspicions. May you find something special to cuddle your soul today and bring you outright awe and joy.
 |
| Unexplainable shamrock on my bed |
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.