Sharp sunlight is reflected
and bounced off the deeply mottled turquoise of the harbor at Marbella - Puerto
Banus - where the jet-setting beautiful people yacht-surf. Even I look like a
beautiful person squinting happily into the camera, my frizzy hair backlit into
a rusty glow.
“You look Irish,” my
Mediterranean daughter says, and needlessly adds. “It doesn’t look at all like
you.” I smile and smooth down the plastic holding the ancient photos in place.
I run through my Irish ancestors, the Fitzpatricks and the Fitzgeralds, until I
bore even myself. No one has ever met any of them, any of their descendents.
There’s just me now, and my Iberian daughters prefer the ounce of Italian blood
I claim.
“The Irish are drunks,” says
my daughter’s boyfriend. I shoot him a look that he doesn’t understand, so I
say:
“Yah, an thass only ta putap
wittallaya that aren’t,” I say in a brogue taken from movies about Boston. The
boyfriend looks up then, his dark eyebrows raised in confusion. The girlfriend
shakes her head, rolls her eyes.
“What were you doing in Puerto
Banus, anyway?” asks my proletariat daughter.
“A friend lent us a place his
parents left him,” I say. “They were movie stars back in the forties. The apartment
was small and ugly, though, so we spent every day in Malaga. We drove back and
forth by the harbor, and one day I noticed a wooden sailboat with blue sail
covers. We rode in to have a look and stayed all afternoon.”
I smile at the memory of those
beautiful, outrageously expensive ships - the yachts and schooners and transatlantic
cruisers - and I smile at the dirt poor couple strutting expansively under the
sharp October sun. They looked a lot like my Mediterranean daughter and her
boyfriend.
“I wonder why I never thought to go to
Ireland,” I say.
The daughter and the boyfriend
look at each other, then get up and leave.
“Fine,” I say. “Erin go
bragh.”
333 words for , including RUSTY 3a : of the color rust ; b : dulled in color or appearance by age and use
You had me swept into the conversation, defensive for the Irish and everything. My favorite part was when she shot the daughter's boyfriend a look that "he doesn't understand." Great image.
ReplyDeleteGlad you were caught up in it, and thanks for sharing your favorite part.
DeleteThanks, Kristin!
hi, Kymm - thanks for linking up this week
ReplyDeletelove the line about why Irish drink :) lol
Wasn't sure that line would translate, so glad it did.
DeleteThanks, Barbara! And thanks for being a judge! w00t w00t
Such rich and textured writing Kymm, and I love that they are paging through an old photo album with real pictures in it! Wonderful piece!
ReplyDeleteGlad I could take you there, Valerie. Thanks so much for the feedback, and the love!
DeleteWonderful, as always, kymm. I love the line where she runs through her ancestors until she bores even herself. And the look the boyfriend doesn't understand. Richly textured scene!
ReplyDeleteYou are too kind, Steph, but thank you!
DeleteMy Dad has been into genealogy big time. I actually had him in mind, boring me - hahaha.
As an Irish gal I say "Love it"!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the love, Deanna!
DeleteI like the line about why Irish drink. Sounds reasonable!
ReplyDeletePhoto albums are so rich with history. Even with the digital age, I print about thirty pictures a year to put in albums. (I guess so they can joke about how I look in old pictures :))
I'm so bad with photos it's beyond pathetic, but one of my daughters loves pouring over photo albums, so I really should print out a photo or two...
DeleteGlad you agree about the drinking!!! Thanks, Janna.
i couldn't imagine not embracing every bit of my ancestry.
ReplyDeletethis took me back to sitting with my grandma, going through her old photos, i just wish she had lived long enough to share all those memories!
Funny you should say that. All my "ancestry", photo albums and such, is back in the States - I haven't seen those old photos in decades.
DeleteThanks for reading, Renada!
Great use of language and very funny dialogue.
ReplyDeleteThis was conversational and funny.
well done
I'm so glad you found it funny. I love humor, but am insecure about it.
DeleteThanks, Lance!
I love this. The whole scenc and conversation is hysterical. As an uber gringo among many Latinos, I relate. :)
ReplyDeletelol Uber Gringo. Hahaha
DeleteI'm so glad you were amused! And thanks for the love, lumdog!
Very intense imagery, and the proletariat daughter compared to the ex jet-set wishing mother with her romantic Irish dreams - Bostonian ones of course, not quite Dublin - is very funny!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Managua, especially for finding it funny!
DeleteI love this story. Your images are strong, and the conversation is fantastic. Brava!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for the love, Brenda, and for visiting!
DeleteLovely story Kymm! The narration feels almost wistful. I love the interaction between mother and daughter (and boyfriend) – believable and natural. Gorgeous writing, as always!
ReplyDeleteWistful... yeah, for time gone by I guess.
DeleteThanks for the love, Suzanne, (and for the compliments!!!)
Really wonderful. Great visuals
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, H.L.! Glad you enjoyed it.
DeleteYou pulled me in to a conversation that could have happened in many a household, as if I were right there. That was very cool!
ReplyDeleteThe Irish have a way of pulling you in... Did you have a hangover later? haha
DeleteThanks so much for the "cool", Tina!!
I enjoyed this a lot. The writing is fluent, but never superfluous, the imagery is striking, and the piece as a whole touches on interesting themes of identity and belonging. It seemed to me that the narrator quite enjoys her sense of "otherness" - a sort of private rebellion against conformity, reminding her of her days as a free-spirited wanderer.
ReplyDeleteSo glad to hear you enjoyed it.
DeleteThank you so much, calliaphone, for your kind words and and perceptive insights!