Life is Perspective

By Shane O’Duinn, Inklings writing group

Mark and John are two good friends that grew up in 1950s Ireland on the same stretch of road. When younger, they were inseparable, between kicking a ball up and down the road and playing marbles till the cows came home.

Older now, their lives have changed naturally with stepping into adulthood, being married to two sisters with adoring children by their sides.

With responsibilities, they are no longer joined by the hip. That said, they do lightly fuse together once a week in their local pub for a few quiet pints.

Now, to be clear, in Irish culture, there is no such thing as a quiet pint. We like to lie to ourselves with false pretences of being respectable or pretending to be French while our subconscious mind has already changed our name to Dionysus getting ready to attempt a Guinness world record for number of pints consumed by one man.

In their usual spot, sitting on two chairs by the window, reminiscing about older days, John said: “Do you remember the times food was food, grub was grub, no food eaten from bags and boxes, glass bottles were returned, not plastic ones, and directly to the shop keeper at that, no machines?”

“By God I do,” said Mark, “and I remember the milkman doing the rounds in the auld horse and cart. Simpler times, people used to talk to one another and genuinely be interested to hear how they’re doing. I miss those days. “Those blasted phones sucking people’s personalities dry.

“As the pints flowed and they continued to reminisce, Mark mentioned it smelt like rain wasn’t far away.

Sure enough, the sky opened in a downpour.

John remarked: “That’s a fair auld dump. You think there was a hole in heaven grieving for all the lost souls.”

Mark replied: “I swear this would be a great little country if you could put a roof on it.”

For countless evenings over countless years, these two men have sat sipping pints, looking out a bar window.

And when the sun is splitting the stones, the line changes to: “Jaysus, ’tis an awful hot day. I swear it’d be a great little country if we had a nice auld shower to cool us down.”

This time, an elderly woman was in earshot and felt like sharing some wisdom with them.

Catching their attention, she placed a pint of Guinness in the middle of the table with gentle but noticeable force, looked them both in the eye and drank it in one gulp.

“Call me Elizabeth Sunshine,” she said.

“Gentlemen, I couldn’t help overhearing your complaint about the beautiful, sacred water that is falling gracefully outside. Now, you two take this as you please. Life is all about perspective. You can see the rain as misery, as negative in a country that rains 300 days a year, or you can choose to see the positivity of the rain watering the trees and plants. A beautiful expression from Mother Earth cleansing the ground we live on. A remembrance of our sacred waters within, and of all sacred waters acknowledging the life force and soul of life with remembrance that our forefathers knew that we are People of the Mist.”

With that the women’s umbrella opened up, she twirled and floated outside singing in the rain:

Listen to the rain

Here it comes again

Hear it in the rain

Feel the touch of tears that fall

They won’t fall forever.

Shane O’Duinn is a member of Inklings Writing Group, who meet on Tuesdays at 11am, in the Annebrook House Hotel.

Inklings members will be performing at the poetry evening in Kilbixy Church in aid of North Westmeath Hospice, from 7pm on Friday August 23.