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Heading back home

 I watched the movie “Tolkien” on the plane from Dublin to New York today. Very much a Masterpiece Theatre type movie (I like Masterpiece Theatre.) It was similar to many stories that came out of World War I and Oxford, friendship, loss, explanations for where Tolkien received his inspiration for the battles of Middle Earth, love of trees (Ents), his creation of a whole fantastical language. He studied philology at Oxford. His idea of the Fellowship of the Ring came, according to the movie, from his four friends at Oxford, two of whom died at the Somme. I don’t know how factual the film is, I want to read the reviews of it when I am back on earth. I know the Tolkien family has guarded his legacy quite closely. 


45 minutes to go until we land. And another voyage is almost over. Have I learned anything new from this one? Hmmm. I have added another city to my list of favorites, Paris. And that was a bit of a surprise because, while I liked it when I was there in May, this time I was much more caught by it. I enjoyed speaking the language, going to the museums, people watching. I look forward to going back. I enjoyed my time in Belfast, being back in Ireland, Northern Ireland, going on the tours of Hillsborough and Malahide. I could live there again were it not for the distance from family.


There is a poignancy though to returning to a place where you have been happy, where you have made memories with friends and family. After Laurie and Mercy left Paris I felt as if we had been part of a play that had finished its run and I was the one left to pack up the props and costumes and move on so that another play will take its place. I felt it too this week with Sheila when we talked about our memories of working at Smiths in the mid 1970s. The people we knew, the way we lived our lives a little helter skelter, not thinking of the future really.


And now here we are 40 years later, some would look at us and see older ladies, comfortable, much like I used to look at my grandmother and her friends. Did she have the stories in her memories that I do? Very different stories I am sure and someday I hope to be able to listen to them when we meet again on the other side of the veil. I think I shall want to listen to her for hours and hours, although of course time won’t exist anymore. 


I am so grateful that it was a safe trip, a healthy trip. That I didn’t lose anything, although perhaps I shouldn’t say that until I am actually at home. I have a lot of “work” to do when I get back, more writing, cemetery photos to transcribe, relationships to re-establish. Things to do a little better probably too. Like eat better, be more positive. Sometimes I think coming back from a holiday is like New Year’s when I resolve to keep the mental stimulation going while also retaining the joy. 

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