Top of the Morning to You!

 

Grammy, today I called my mom, your daughter. And I told her “Top of the Morning!” When I woke up this morning, I thought of you. I wanted to call you. But I could not. This is my first St. Patrick’s Day without you. I know you always loved this day. The Irishness of it. I remember last year, I came to visit you unexpectedly. And even though Aunt Donna was caring for you, your house still had that familiar scent of caraway seeds from the warm Irish Soda Bread. I remember that we went on about how frustrating it was that the Columbian newspaper failed to even mention the holiday. I promised to tell everyone I knew of the day, of the history, of the legacy.

I remember when I was little. And I would call you on the phone. And you would tell me stories of when you were little. How Cleveland Ohio in the 30’s was Irish Central. How you had the day off school and had a big Irish Celebration. A Celebration of your heritage. You talked about how your dad, Pampa, would pull out his items from home, tucked safely away in an attic trunk the rest of the year. And you talked of how your parents would speak Gaelic to each other, but you never learned a word.  You talked about the celebrations on the street.

I wish I had been there. It is so far removed from this “green” day we have now. The “I’ll pinch you if your not wearing green".” The Leprechauns and four leaf clovers. Those might be the decorations I have in my house, but in my heart, being Irish is deeper. I am glad you are my Grammy. And that you taught me about this day. That even if I can’t explain it, I hold a memory worth more than a pot o’ gold.