I realise this is a bit off topic but some things are more important than writing. I know – what heresy! How could I say such a thing! 🙂 But it’s true. Some things are more important than anything. Here is one of them. Her name is Caragh. She was born a few weeks ago, and I’m her great aunt (great as in her mum is my wonderful niece, Claire, married to David), and no the bib wasn’t for me. The remarkable thing about wee Caragh is that even at two weeks old, she took me by surprise and made me think.
My dad was a lovely man who died too young, a long time ago, in 1973. We have a picture of him from the 1940s in his army uniform, standing, as he often did, holding his right arm with his left hand, looking thoughtful.
I went up to Scotland to welcome our new addition to the family. One day I looked down at her in my arms and there she was – linking the present effortlessly with the past and the future, opening doors in my memory, making me remember and feel things I hadn’t felt for decades. Her mum heard me squeak, “Quick, get the camera!” And so we have a picture of the moment. The moment Caragh reminded me of my kind and gentle dad – her great-grandfather.
This also reminded me that the best kind of writing makes us stop and think and feel too, and stays with us because it encapsulates the human condition and the universality of our emotions. Difficult to pull off when writing prose, but always worth trying to achieve. Caragh did it in her sleep! 🙂
People may wonder how I could love a child so much after only just meeting her. But that’s not what fills me with wonder.
Isn’t she beautiful!