As I sat now on a rock looking out at the sea, its rough waves roiling with gray and white foam, I heard a noise behind me. I turned around and saw Da in the distance, his tall, gaunt frame bent against the wind. He trudged toward the cottage carrying a bucket in each hand, each containing sods of turf for the fire. As a child, I used to run to greet him, and he would nod as I ran along beside him, holding on to the handle of a bucket and trying to keep up with his long strides. I was used to his silence. I sometimes wondered if it was because he had grown up speaking Irish and was still uncomfortable with English words. I asked him once to teach me Irish, but he shook his head. “’Twould be of no use to ye,” he said, “’tis the English that rule this country, and ’tis the English tongue ye’ll be needing.”

I went up to him now, took one of the buckets and fell into step beside him, lost in my own thoughts. Then I remembered the letter from America, and my steps quickened. What surprises might it hold? Had it brought fortune? But by the time I pushed in through the cottage door, I knew. No matter what fortune the letter held, it would not be for me.

Nora

Nora

The letter lay like a tasty, forbidden morsel on the kitchen table. Ma refused to open it until Da came home for his tea.

“Ah, Ma, would you not let me look inside? ’Twill only be a quick peek. I’ll just tear off the corner. I won’t even open it all the way,” I pleaded.

But Ma wouldn’t budge. She just sat, looking at me like a cat teasing a mouse. “We’ll wait until your da comes in. Such an important thing as a letter from America should be opened by the man of the house.”

I inwardly rolled my eyes. Man of the house, my arse, I thought. When had she ever given the poor man say over anything in the house? No, Ma liked things her way and Da never got a look in.

But why she was torturing me now, and seeming to enjoy it, I didn’t understand at all. Usually I had only to hint that I wanted this or that thing and she fell over herself rushing to give it to me. After all, I was the favorite daughter. Ma made no secret of the fact that my sister, Delia, needed to fend for herself.