skin. Gran had often chosen to build a peat fire for warmth, mostly for sentimental reasons. Thank God I wouldn’t have to figure that out.
A persistent tapping sound turned my attention to the window at the front of the house. A light rain had begun to fall, pattering against the windows and striking the roof. Gran’s cottage had always lost power at the drop of a hat and I prayed now that we wouldn't have a storm. Despite my book smarts, I was still a seventeen-year-old who’d never lived alone. The last thing I needed was a wrestling match with my own fears in the dark Irish countryside.
As I walked into the kitchen, I noted that it was a contradiction of itself. On one hand, there was aged brick flooring that had clearly seen better days, along with a wide open hearth for cooking. On the other, there were also several stainless steel appliances that functioned well, but looked out of place.
On the wooden kitchen table there was a flowered tablet with the heading “To Do” printed daintily across the top. Gran was a list-maker, like me. Grabbing the pen next to it, I made a note on the first page to find out how utilities worked in Ireland, along with whom I needed to call if the power went out. I didn't imagine that twenty-four-hour-service was an option.
My glance shifted to another note on the table, one that I hadn’t seen earlier. It was from one of Gran's neighbors who wanted to let me know that she’d been in to clean out the refrigerator and “tidy up a bit”.
I shuddered, trying not to imagine what she would have found. There’d probably been a bunch of rotting, smelly food in the fridge. However, as I glanced around again, I took in a pleasant lemony smell and noted the gleaming tables and countertops. It made me smile to think that someone cared about my well-being here.
Thankfully, the note also indicated that there were groceries in the fridge, which had been billed to Gran's account. There was only the one little shop in town. It was poorly stocked, but I assumed that she’d have given me some essentials.
Putting on a kettle for tea, I opened the fridge. Happily, I noted several covered dishes inside with instructions for reheating. The closest to the front would do nicely. The spoon dug into it easily and I placed some on a plate before putting it into the microwave and firing it up.
After eating two generous portions and enjoying a cup of tea, I cleaned up and set off to explore the rest of the house. The flowered tablet came with me, and I used it to indicate which things should be removed and which should stay. Most I’d sell or donate. This systematic approach might have seemed callous or cold, but the action of planning calmed me. It made me feel more adult, and more in control of my situation because I was taking action.
I continued my punch list upstairs, moving through each of the two handkerchief-sized bedrooms and the small bathroom. When I entered Gran’s bedroom, I noticed a book by the bed and mistakenly assumed it was a Bible. Closer examination told me that it was her journal.
“I’m not going there.” I spoke to the empty room, touching my hand to the front of the leather volume but resisting the temptation to open it. Although I was sure she’d want me to read it, I wasn't ready yet.
I headed out to the conservatory at last, smiling. Completely enclosed by glass, such a modern luxury seemed bizarre in such an antiquated place. Gran had spent a lot of her time out there, looking out over the horizon.
***
The sky was an inky black now and it was impossible to see anything, yet I opened the french doors leading out to the backyard anyway and listened to the sea for a few moments. It was unsettling, the darkness, as not even a single star lit the sky. My eyes took their time adjusting to my surroundings before I noticed the wooden steps to my left that led down the cliffs and to the shore below. They led directly to my childhood refuge: the cove.
I pushed back a
A persistent tapping sound turned my attention to the window at the front of the house. A light rain had begun to fall, pattering against the windows and striking the roof. Gran’s cottage had always lost power at the drop of a hat and I prayed now that we wouldn't have a storm. Despite my book smarts, I was still a seventeen-year-old who’d never lived alone. The last thing I needed was a wrestling match with my own fears in the dark Irish countryside.
As I walked into the kitchen, I noted that it was a contradiction of itself. On one hand, there was aged brick flooring that had clearly seen better days, along with a wide open hearth for cooking. On the other, there were also several stainless steel appliances that functioned well, but looked out of place.
On the wooden kitchen table there was a flowered tablet with the heading “To Do” printed daintily across the top. Gran was a list-maker, like me. Grabbing the pen next to it, I made a note on the first page to find out how utilities worked in Ireland, along with whom I needed to call if the power went out. I didn't imagine that twenty-four-hour-service was an option.
My glance shifted to another note on the table, one that I hadn’t seen earlier. It was from one of Gran's neighbors who wanted to let me know that she’d been in to clean out the refrigerator and “tidy up a bit”.
I shuddered, trying not to imagine what she would have found. There’d probably been a bunch of rotting, smelly food in the fridge. However, as I glanced around again, I took in a pleasant lemony smell and noted the gleaming tables and countertops. It made me smile to think that someone cared about my well-being here.
Thankfully, the note also indicated that there were groceries in the fridge, which had been billed to Gran's account. There was only the one little shop in town. It was poorly stocked, but I assumed that she’d have given me some essentials.
Putting on a kettle for tea, I opened the fridge. Happily, I noted several covered dishes inside with instructions for reheating. The closest to the front would do nicely. The spoon dug into it easily and I placed some on a plate before putting it into the microwave and firing it up.
After eating two generous portions and enjoying a cup of tea, I cleaned up and set off to explore the rest of the house. The flowered tablet came with me, and I used it to indicate which things should be removed and which should stay. Most I’d sell or donate. This systematic approach might have seemed callous or cold, but the action of planning calmed me. It made me feel more adult, and more in control of my situation because I was taking action.
I continued my punch list upstairs, moving through each of the two handkerchief-sized bedrooms and the small bathroom. When I entered Gran’s bedroom, I noticed a book by the bed and mistakenly assumed it was a Bible. Closer examination told me that it was her journal.
“I’m not going there.” I spoke to the empty room, touching my hand to the front of the leather volume but resisting the temptation to open it. Although I was sure she’d want me to read it, I wasn't ready yet.
I headed out to the conservatory at last, smiling. Completely enclosed by glass, such a modern luxury seemed bizarre in such an antiquated place. Gran had spent a lot of her time out there, looking out over the horizon.
***
The sky was an inky black now and it was impossible to see anything, yet I opened the french doors leading out to the backyard anyway and listened to the sea for a few moments. It was unsettling, the darkness, as not even a single star lit the sky. My eyes took their time adjusting to my surroundings before I noticed the wooden steps to my left that led down the cliffs and to the shore below. They led directly to my childhood refuge: the cove.
I pushed back a
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