The silence. That’s what I remember most. My first lived experience of “whatever you say, say nothing.”
Me, only me. It’s just me that’s getting to go. No brother, no cousins. Me, me, me.
It’s Sunday, it’s sticky and we’re going for a run in Seamus’ car.
My auntie Mary on one side of me, auntie Helen on the other.
Newtownstewart, Sion Mills, Strabane, Lifford. There’s always buckets and spades outside the shop in Lifford.
On towards Letterkenny. Chat, chat, chat. Grown up chat. I wonder will we go as far as Gweedore? I hope we do.
Sudden quiet. They’re not even complaining about that lorry in the middle of the road.
Ah, soldiers. Guns.
Not soldiers. Balaclavas. No uniforms. An awful lot of guns.
I don’t like this.
I can’t ask.
I can’t say anything.
Nobody is saying anything.
We’re not going to Gweedore.