Béal Feirste

I've been thinking lately, again, about our year in Northern Ireland.  Five years ago we had Christmas there with our friends in North Belfast.

Christmas pageant at Fortwilliam and the whole bit.  Drinks with friends at the pub.  Neighbourhood children knocking on our door singing, "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat...", hoping for a couple of P so they could run down the hill to the shop for sweets.   Ryan.  Demi.  Janet.  Sean.  Where are they now, I wonder.

Our time in Belfast was complicated.  It's taken a long time for me to understand what happened there.  Why we had to leave before we really wanted to.  Why things ended differently than anyone had expected or hoped for.  And why there was so much pain - both for us and for the people who had become our friends, our family.  I'm not certain I do understand it.  But I see it now with the perspective of time and distance and I no longer feel that pain in the same way.

Yesterday, I received an unexpected email from an old friend from Belfast, a friend I had lost track of.  She emailed a quick Christmas hello and tacked on a birthday wish for me.  I'm not sure why this touched me so much.  Perhaps it was the thoughtfulness of remembering my birthday after all these years (something many of my friends and family here understandably forget, due to its proximity to Christmas).  But really, I think it's just good to know that old friends there still think of me sometimes.  Because I sure think of them.