The Writer Finds Another Day Gone

“Ah, Aidan!”

Seamus had spotted me faster than a bird of prey.

“These parts have been lonely and dark without yer flamin’ hair!”

I laughed at the blatant compliment and gave the burly man and hug.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I said honestly as he returned the hug. I pulled away as he prepared to shout.

“Brigh!” Seamus yelled into the upper regions of the house, making the rafters shake.

“What is it, you big bear of a man?” Mrs. McCarthy came down the steps, her apron in disarray.

“Is it wrong to want to see my wife?” Seamus laughed, and pulled her into an embrace. “What’s for dinner?”

“Why, you inconsiderate brute!” Mrs. McCarthy huffed, her face flushed. “Fifty two years, I’ve been married to you, and you still ask about food – the first thing you talk about since you step inside!”

“I’m just jokin’ around with yer,” Seamus said, still laughing.

“Come…dinner’s ready,” Mrs. McCarthy said, and we all followed eagerly into the kitchen.

I glanced out the window.


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