Happy St. Patrick's Day

Mine, taken in Killarney, County Kerry

It is that time of year again, when Americans think all Irish people are lazy drunkards who believe in wee people with orange hair. Time, usually, for my general 'get a clue, this is biased thinking' rant. Maybe later. For now, I am at peace with my knowing that one Irish lassie, me, is going to get to spend more time with her husband. More St. Patty's Days, more toasts, more life itself.

Sometimes, its the little things that really are the big things. Like living one more day, week, month. Like saying, 'See ya after work' or 'Meet me later' and believing it possible to do so. Like 'saming and saming and saming again /the same leg flung over mine for a decade of winter nights', as Danielle Steele wrote in her pre-novel poetry years. Sleeping 'back to cat, cat to back' under a quilt make threadbare by being used as tent by babies long grown.

My husband survived a cerebral bleed. He is here, with me, and I with him. More than ever.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day. See ya later.