Clare

Grey rocks covered in grass overlook the cool blue waves. The winds blow and the tide rolls in as my ancestors overlook the Cliffs of Moher. 

My name. where I came from. what I was named after. County Clare in Ireland. A county along the west coast. My ancestors. The graves of those that my name carries. 

My Grandfather named me Clare. He taught me about where we came from. How I will travel to see the graves of those I carry on. He tells me these stories as we walk together through Irish fest. Pointing out my name as we walk past the maps of Ireland. Showing me exactly where in County Clare my ancestors are buried. 

My Grandfather often recalls his trips to Ireland. Recalls the landscape in detail. He mentions the rain. I love when it rains. When I think of my name I think of rain but the kind of rain where its small warm drops like a light rain shower in summer.  

My Grandfather uses his talents to carry on our family name. He paints pictures of County Clare. He never taught me how to paint. neither did anyone else. But my talent came to me naturally. I carry on his style of intricate landscapes of the ocean and forests. We can capture parts or images that others can’t see. whether is a small detail in the trees or a whitecap in the waves of a painting of the Atlantic Ocean.

My Grandfather told me that my name means famous, gentle, humble, and warm. I am far from gentle. I am a bold person who is known for being independent and strong, like my grandfather and my ancestors. I think gentle for me would refer to County Clare, a land filled with long walks along the cold crisp waters. Gentle as the breeze that blows past the cliffs that separate the land and sea. Gentle like the rain that covers the county. Famous like the county where my name came from, humble like my ancestors and warm like the light rain. 

The rain, the stories, the maps, the people, the art, my grandfather. The name of my family’s origins. County Clare. The name I carry. I represent myself and so many others.