Eternities

No surprise that Joyce had his hero, Dedalus, ask himself whether he was 'walking into eternity along Sandymount strand'. When the tide's out there are eternities, and eternities within eternities. The cloudscapes and damp reflective sand make for a study in silvery distances, as if you might walk out forever, looking for the sea's retreating hemline, then a jogger goes past and foregrounds the urban, reminds me that I'm sitting in a car on the edge of a large Dublin suburb. I sat here and wrote for awhile, and stared and thought (about my mother of course, and other things) and absorbed those great gaps in thinking, where the mind is on standby, its engine idling.

It occurred to me that much of my life has been lived behind glass: windows, windscreens, etc. My mother, when she was younger (when she was my age now), was more of an outdoor person. She used to bring me here for walks, along with our overfed lab, Terry (grandfather used to feed him scraps, and bread-crusts of all things!). What did we talk about? I have no idea. But I do have a couple of photos: mum in her orange sheepskin, and another of Terry and myself both looking plump (I was wearing my winter coat and school hat).