She has a wonderfully wicked grin, did my Irish Nana, more than a few naughty secrets she kept I'm sure. Perhaps that's what we all need in our old age, some sparky memories to keep our soul-fire burning within.
My Irish Nana was a master craftswoman with wool, give her a few moments and she'd have some intricate clothing made, all without so much as a glance to her rapidly moving fingers.
Through my Irish Nana came sense of freedom and fun, an exuberance she passed onto my aunts and father. There was something of the child spirit that had lasted in her in such pure abundance, and for that she was so very easy to love.
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