For what we receive, we swear to you, Brighde. We swear together, as mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, nieces, wives and widows, to protect the lands and the people of Ireland against her foes. Where shelter is sought, we will offer it. Where aid is sought, we will deliver it. Where vengeance is sought, we will wreak it. For as long as our chests take breath, we swear. We swear together.
Exquisitely pretty little twelve-year-old Julie Miller smiled coyly at her new boyfriend as she slowly opened the topmost button on the front of her crisp white blouse.
Friday evening, the first week of June and I was totally relaxed. I’d met a friend for dinner and a drink or two and had gotten home around nine. Now, I was sipping a bit of Maker’s Mark, rocks with just a splash of water while I enjoyed the quiet. It had been an eventful week, Joanie my eighteen year old daughter had graduated, graduated with a 3.96 GPA, not quite valedictorian but second in her class and I was so damned proud.