Across the Room and Into the Fire, Pt. 1

Na trioblóidí

This is a love story that has no end.

When I was very young, my family didn’t have much in the way of money. By way  of illustration, here is an early memory—

I was crossing the street with my mother and younger brother. My mother was holding both of us by the hand. In my free hand, I held my “toys”. These were cut-outs from a newspaper ad, pictures of dolls of Frankenstein, Dracula, the Werewolf, and the Mummy. We had almost made it across when I dropped my toys, broke free of my mother, and dashed out into traffic. The paper cut-outs were stuck to the wet road and I was trying desperately to free them, my mother was screaming bloody murder, and my little brother was laughing. Luckily, a meter maid was there to grab me by the ear and haul me off to the curb, using…

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