It wasn’t the diagnosis of strangled bowel, nor the low survival chance to vital surgery that tore at his heart.
It wasn’t the palpable frailty of his hero, his mother, hooked up to machines, though these things were traumatic.
No, it was those five words: Can I come home now?
Absorbing the Donegal hills from distance only now, Perry McDaid’s creativity subsists on nature’s palette and scents. Unfortunately this sometimes involves silage.
Impossible to click “Like” for this one, though it is indeed outstanding work. Bleak departure.
Thank you, I know what you mean.
This is powerful. It touches a nerve for me — though in my case, it was my mother’s stroke. I hope, if this story happens to be more truth than fiction, that you and your mom are okay
Writing is as much therapy as creativity – thank you on both counts. She is home and happily recovering.
Sad, and sadly real for many people. Hope this is not so for you.
I was in two minds whether to write this at all, but some things need to be expressed. She’s home and settling into recovery with excellent carers.
Speechless. Heartsickened and speechless.
Sorry about that.
Perry, whenever I see your name among 50-word-story authors, I know I’m in for a new and marvelous surprise.
Thank you, Alex. I hope I didn’t disappoint.
Perry, I enjoyed your story. Thanks.
You are most welcome.
Missed you, Perry. Glad you’re back! But I’ll see your Donegal hills and raise you my Cave Hill and the Giant’s Nose!
Thanks, Joan. Ah, now we can’t compare perfection with perfection. :D