Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
Eileen Walsh
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Eileen Walsh greeted Doug and me as we stepped out of a shop in Louisburgh, County Mayo, and onto the sidewalk. We’d arrived in town the night before, eager for the start of the traditional music festival which began that morning. Eileen had said she’d try to drive into town from Westport for the concert that night, but we didn’t know if she’d actually make it or not.
And then for her to find us easily in a town crowded with a couple of thousand extra visitors, well. It seemed unlikely, but then—in much the same way that around every bend in Ireland is an entirely new vista—everything about Eileen is a surprise. After all, we’d only met her for the first time the day before.
She’d overheard us talking at the Internet cafe in Westport and approached us. “Where in America are you from?”
“Kansas City,” I said, and she volunteered that her home is in Boulder, Colorado. At least, that’s her permanent address.
“I’m in Ireland for a year,” she said. “I just got here two weeks ago. I don’t have a job, or a place to stay long-term. I have to turn in my rental car in a few days, so then I’ll be walking.”
“Is your husband here, too?” I asked, feeling grateful all of a sudden that I had one of those by my side.
“Nope. We decided years ago that we wanted to spend a year in Ireland, starting now. I steadily planned toward it, but then as it got closer, he said he couldn’t leave his clients. I had to come, though.”
Eileen Walsh is a woman on a mission to make it on her own merit, her own steam, her own hard work and perseverence. She and her husband agreed that she needed this time in Ireland, and she says he fully supports her emotionally.
But financially, at 58 years old, she’s on her own.
“I’ve never lived by myself, ever. I went from my parents’ home to having college roommates, to being married. I’ve never had to support myself. So I’m looking for a job—I’ll do nearly anything. Hair styling, housekeeping, waitressing, upholstery. I just need to earn enough to pay my expenses.”
“Did you bring a lot of stuff with you?” I asked. I was wondering about furnishings and housewares, that kind of thing.
“One suitcase and a trunk,” she said. “But it’s too much. I’m shipping the trunk back home. I’ll find a furnished flat and I only need a few changes of clothes. I don’t want anything to weigh me down.”
We Irishwomen have something of the hardscrapple imbedded in our consciousness. We don’t need much to get by. Like me, Eileen has an Irish-born grandparent, and she has become an Irish citizen because of it.
Eileen taught me a lot on our first meeting in Westport, and even more when she found us on the street the next day. Though she admitted to being daunted by the circumstances she’d placed herself in, I saw no fear in her eyes. She’s a woman who’s determined to follow the course she’s chosen (even the course between Westport and Louisburgh on the iffy roads in the rain is challenging to me), and if she falls flat and ends up conceding defeat—in other words, if she finds she can’t make it in Ireland for a year—she’ll go back to Boulder with a sense of accomplishment she’s only beginning to gain.
We sat together at the concert that night, Eileen and me, tapping our toes in time to the jigs and horn pipes and reels. Even though we’ve embraced different paths at this season of our lives, our hearts were attuned to each other and to the pull of love for Ireland.
Eileen, if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I think of you every day, and that I’m praying for you, too. May the road rise up to meet you.
- I like your story.
Like your story, i have mine.
Mine seems, like yours, entwined with a divine Eileen Walsh of Co. Mayo, of a different time.
It is a Romantic gesture, a pebble skipping across the pond, to find her hand and hold love held from long ago.
I hope the tide turns kindly for you.
mjd.Posted by mark-john dyer on 07/26/06 at 10:33 PM - Katy
Just found your blog. Quite a surprise. You have a good memory or a tape recorder hidden in your hair.
I made it 11 months. Found a job in a local company in the office. Good and bad there.
My apartment was fantastic - old coachouse to the Old Rectory. Fantastic landlords.
Met relatives. Like them a lot.
Hope to go back to see them in a few years.
Hope you still search this site.
Best to you.
Eileen
Blessings:Posted by Eileen Walsh on 11/22/09 at 04:10 AM - Amazingly, Eileen's grandmother and mine were sisters...and I only met Eileen for the first time when she visited Westport... A.P.H.
Posted by Ann Pauline Hughes on 05/05/10 at 06:29 PM
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