The Wren, the Wren

by Anne Enright

A revelation is the way things make sense when we are wired for some kind of knowledge, but not yet switched on.

Most of the time, I think, people aren’t listening to each other, they are just waiting their turn to speak.

Love! Bam. It kept happening on the bus, Bam! and getting off the bus, the after-scent released when I stood up to go, the pang, the hidden delight, the street becoming a meaningful street, BAM, it just kept happening and rising, the knowledge, the beauty, the hopefulness, my feet not touching the ground, my cheek not feeling the air, the love the swoop and swoon the blood mashing in my ears the any moment now the any second now he will call, the beauty of the day, the beauty of the sky, the jolt of missed time and had I missed it? Did he text? Is my battery dead? Did I pick up somebody else’s phone, now? If I see five magpies, three yellow mini-coopers, if I read every horoscope, he will text me love me he will call.

Most of the time we have a quiet relationship, Me ’n’ Maw. In here is a magic circle – and we have the scented candles to prove it – out there is attrition.

You can’t tell Carmel you have a problem or she’ll go out and beat someone up for you.