Glimpses into other women’s lives
Among the things I found while stripping out my caravan were: games (Twister and Frustration), numerous hair ties, €1.76 in loose change, broken bits of a child’s plastic tiara, a miraculous medal tucked inside its mini booklet with the picture of Mary on the front and her prayer on the back, various CDs and DVDs (including NOW 66, a “burned” DVD with ‘cartoons’ and ‘You’ve Been Framed’ scrawled across it, and ‘All Ireland’s of the 21st Century - Highlights from the All Ireland Senior Football and Hurling Finals 2001 - 2005), and a pregnancy test.
It was hard to tell if the pregnancy test was positive or negative, the line had faded over time, but it looked like maybe it was the former.
I wonder about the woman who took this test. Imagine her holding the plastic stick under her stream of pee in the tiny, cramped, plastic toilet. I wonder was she excited, nervous, scared?
Was the moment of reveal a time of joy or shock? Did she feel supported, held and ready, or did the result send spasms of panic through her body?
Looking at all my findings, I decide that whatever that pregnancy test brought, here in front of me was all the debris of a normal family life, and I choose to believe that the times this unknown family shared in their caravan were also normal, simple and as such, happy.
I found out that the woman who owned Burd Cottage before me had no children of her own. This feels comforting to me. She and her husband would come to the cottage on their holidays, spending their time travelling around the country, gardening and socialising with the neighbours, who have nothing but kind words for her. After her death, she left her cottage to her three nephews, who didn’t have any use for a run down, cement cottage over the waters, so sold it on.
I think of my own nieces and nephews, and the kind of place I want to make this for them. A place they can come to rest, retreat, connect with the earth. I think about the kind of woman I want to be here. The mad, loving, child-free aunt I want to be to them. I wonder will they help me in the garden, tell me their secrets, mistakes and heartaches, sit and watch old hurling finals with me, and toast their triumphs at my kitchen table. I wonder what beauty I might birth in this place.
