Our ancestors have said, "Is maith anscealaia an aimsir." (Time is a greatstoryteller.)

I like to sit on the creaky swing, the onethat Nora gave a fresh coat of rose paint. I sit there, and stare off towhere the Aran Islands meet the horizon. I like to wonder what is beyondthem. I like to taste the salty breeze off the bay and feel it brushagainst my cheeks. I like to feel as though I belong.

On the bay,I spy a man hauling in his net, hoping for a big catch, hoping to sendhis daughters to the Harvest Dance in fine dresses. He is lonely outthere on the water. I am lonely, too.

The rains begin to tumblegently from the skies. I let them fall against me. I like to feel thewater splashing my face and seeping through my clothing. I do not fearthe water. Someday, I'd like to fall asleep in the velvet black blanketof Galway Bay.