Have a seat

One bench... I always ask this question... who would you sit beside. 

I've chosen a few lately. Mam and dad I want but I've decided against either of them once again

Selfish a little on my behalf but I'm afraid of many things. What if they're not safe together dancing in heaven like I imagine... what if...

I cant even bring myself to wonder how I'd deal with the consequences of that what if... for them and me. But I also know that together they would be devastated at what is happening in the world... in Ireland, in our own little home town 

They would not hold back at telling me what entitled little fuckers we've become. I can see them now on the bench close to me almost quietly shouting over each other to get their voice heard.

In 2020 We've steadily attacked each other, blamed our children, refused to be there for each other, judged each other and allowed a simple piece of material we were asked to cover our mouth with to become the gun we shoot each other with.. instead of asking ourselves where we came from....

We watched people suffer, people die, old people, our fucking people...

What would our parents say about that after all they survived.....

"You're in a pandemic Valerie.... stay at home Valerie. What the fuck is bringing you to Penneys valerie to buy fecking knickers. Jesus child you barely had a knickers as a child, and now you're running through a shop of hundreds to buy a fecking knickers. Dont pee in this one child coz we're not here to wash it for you....."

Sounds like I'm joking but I hear them, I see them trying to make food stretch for a week. I see them trying to breathe when we've exhausted them and I see them catching each others eye and exchanging a silent wish that they could lock us in a cupboard and sleep with a further exchange between them that they're serious but really joking 

And now I can see them sitting in that bench quietly tortured that they raised us to be happy and amazing and rich in memories but they're watching and wondering why the fuck they killed themselves working, why every pound was stretched to the limit to feed us. Why every bone and scrap and crumb was poured into a pan with every vegetable in the garden and turned into dumpling stew to feed 8 of us just so we could end up praying for a tomorrow lost in the crazy entitlement of arrogant people losing the values they were raised with 

The arrogance of us forgetting that....

Irish. We are Irish born and raised. Raised with feck all but raised with everything because we were raised with love. Every day a battle. Starving and grabbing at the fresh bread and praying for jam.... freezing and trying to grab the last dirty duffle coat to cover us. Crying coz we didn't want to swallow the ache of walking to school, head lice in tow, long socks pulled down to our ankles and a hungry stomach having a full blown row that was winning against us.

The arrogance of us forgetting that...

We didn't go home and weep against the system that left us walking to school and leaving us struggling to understand the prose and poetry thrown at us. We didn't dare because being able to learn prose and poetry we didn't understand was a privilege. Walking to school in clothes that didn't fit and long socks we were ashamed of was a privilege. Having your mother tear the head of you to kill the life sized lice living there was a privilege.... spending your while life wishing for a different life, a richer life, a life other than the life you had was a god damned fucking privilege...

And yet those days are gone.... and that life is gone and the world is now fighting because a privileged fucker doesn't want to wear a mask and they dont want to stay at home and the world is gone to hard for them. How dare anyone ask them to protect others.... how dare anyone take their privileges away from them.... in the small hope someone else might live 

The arrogance of us doing that.....

And the bench is there... within reach of me, and my man and dad are there, together holding hands and I want to be with them so bad. I'm crying so hard I can barely see them and I need them but my feet wont move.... my arms wont reach and I know why

Because how do I tell them that the poor ireland they lived through, the poor Ireland they raised us kids in, the poor Ireland they boiled bones and scraps and bread in and offered to us as dumpling stew is now only a memory, the war they starved through, lost their loved ones through and the gravestones they've cried at are now assigned to history books never to be repeated.... and our history books will ink forever how we lived apart in a war we could have fought together but we were too busy fighting each other over who knew best

We were asked to simply stay safe apart.... instead we stayed apart forgetting to wish ourselves to be saved together

And my Mam and Dad are still there together holding hands on that bloody bench and I want so badly to run to them....

We were simply asked to live.....

We are very simply failing our forefathers who saw more destruction that we can imagine.. 

And we're failing by the minute.....

Valerie Masters