Writer’s tears

I’ve mentioned before that I often find myself weepy when I’m in Ireland. If you know me at all, you’re aware that’s atypical of me. I’m not known to be a crier. On the occasions that I do get teary, it’s likely to be about children and animals, not songs or physical gestures.

Last week, though, when I was in Ireland, I turned into a pile of mush. Or porridge, as the case may be. My week was even quicker than I had imagined it would be and far more emotional than I could have ever anticipated.

Generally speaking, my teariest moments were directly related to my circumstances in Ireland. I was with family or in a place where I felt complete comfort. Perhaps a meaningful song came on the sound system or a photo revealed a resemblance of which I had been unaware. Twice, my tears were prompted by a continuing situation far away geographically from where I stood. Here they are with all their salty honesty.

On Monday night, I returned to what has become my favorite restaurant in Dublin, The Vintage Kitchen. It is a small, hole in the wall sort of spot that consistently turns out creative and delicious plates using the best ingredients Ireland has to offer. This was my third time to VK in about 5 years and my first time dining alone here.

The experience was absolutely stellar.

Currently, on Mondays and Tuesdays, there’s a BYOB wine option at a low corkage fee of €6. This is somewhat of a return to their early days when it was BYOB exclusively. I indulged myself (imagine that?!) with a lovely bottle of rosé sparkling wine from South Africa which carried me beautifully through all 3 courses.

My dinner was fantastic – seafood risotto, gorgeous duck breast and decadent chocolate cake and the servers were delightful, making me feel very well taken care of throughout my meal. There was nothing I would change about the experience whatsoever.*

The man dining solo next to me was quite chatty but friendly and warm and a good conversationalist. His appearance, lots of tattoos and the second chair at his table piled with his motorcycle gear, belied his profession – he was a Monk of some sort. When he arose to depart, he stood over me for a brief moment and blessed me going as far as to gently make the sign of the cross on my forehead. Immediately afterwards, one of my very favorite songs began to play – The Waterboys’ Whole of the Moon.

There was no stopping the tears.

The photo above is of one of my father’s sisters, the aunt that I’ve spent the most time with over the years. She’ll be 95 in April and I’ve always found her to be beautiful. Being told by a cousin I met for the first time that I resembled my Aunt Rosita (and my Aunt Celine) made me cry. Being raised without knowing any relatives beyond my mother and brother, makes me incredibly appreciative of the connections and perceived similarities between my extended, and large, family and myself.

My other two reasons for crying were far less sentimental or sweet. Ireland has a long history of occupation and the opinion in the country, from what I observed, is that the situation in the Middle East needs to be addressed with an immediate ceasefire. What is happening to the Palestinian civilians can only be described as genocide and far too many lives have already been lost because of inaction from the international community. It has to stop.

I understand that this is a complicated state of affairs, and that there are innocent victims on both sides of the conflict, but it’s time for serious diplomatic steps to be taken to end the dispute. Doing nothing makes us complicit.

Speaking of doing nothing, I found myself once again explaining that the American response to gun violence in schools, and children being massacred in their classrooms, is drills to teach them how to hide. The fact that our elected representatives have done nothing to end gun violence in our schools, in our entire damn country, is despicable. Although I vacillate in my emotional response to this condition, accepted as normal, between rage and tears, crying ultimately wins out.

What a sad country I live in.

At least for now.