Moira swayed, eyes closed and hands reaching toward the sky.
“Oh, Mother Ireland, I love yeâ€, she keened; “I love ye, but I must leave ye. Tis time, tis time. Tis time for Moira to make her way into the Promised Land of America’s green shores.â€
Keevan O’Donaugh watched as tears streamed down Moira’s upturned cheeks, wondering at the ecstasy rocking her in time.
“Moira, me darling. Can you hear me? Come out of this vision and come back to poor Keevan’s arms where you belong.â€
Moira started, then shuddered as if to shake off the remains of the dream.
“Ah, Keevan, love. I’m here. I’m here. But I cannot stay. America is callin’ me. Do come with me, do.â€
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Ecstasy . . . that state of being that Trifecta’s editors asked us to fall into this week.
Awww ): It’s good that she has her hubby, at least.
This is so touchingly written! It reminds me of a child having to cut those apron strings, and what sadness that brings. Nicely done:)
Ah very nice. I love the setting and the circumstances.
Leaving … always a difficult thing ! Nicely written 🙂
Love the dialog and dialect. Very moving… difficult indeed to leave your home.
You were right on with the dialect. I could hear her voice perfectly. Hope Keenan goes with her!
Great dialogue -wistful and moving. I really enjoyed this piece.
Makes me wonder how many other immigrants had this same longing for these green shores.
I really like this little vignette – the dialect, the yearnings, the almost religious “call” to depart. Fantastic piece!
This is a wonderful short story, one that seems to pack so much into the characters. I keep wondering what else is going on in Moira’s life, so I hope you’ll consider writing more about her!
I love the language and romantic feel. This is really well done, mrs moose
I’ve got a calling for American shores, too. Lovely.