Last night I spoke with an Irish brogue in my dreams. That’s when I knew I’d become immersed in Ireland’s culture.
I’ve never felt so welcome with home-cooked meals and innumerable cups of tea. Deirdre’s sister Katherine even tucked a warm water bottle between my guest bed’s sheets.
Even with pots of kindness and nurturing, our book tour has been grueling. Early morning radio and TV interviews have poured into late-night boxing shows.
Deirdre has held hand pads for young pugilists at book events. Faced the possible wrath (that did not come) from a family exposed by a memoir.
“I cannot dispute a word of it,” said one of her sisters.
Yet—following Ireland’s first woman boxing champion down the alleyways and streets of her childhood has taken its toll. Exhausted, she caught a cold and took the night off to rest.
Our journey will continue in the morning.
I wonder which road we will take and where it will lead.