“I’d never held a living cat before. It wriggled and scratched my arms while the paramedics did their work. “

Soon the sky
fills with people. My grandfather
turns the dial of his American radio
to the prayer of a wordless song

“On Saturday nights, I am haunted by cumbrous memories of my mother.”

“I realize that my experiences of Gaelic are like the view from the door of my basement apartment: a sliver of sky and the row houses across the street. I can never see the whole world that way. Yet Gaelic gives me many glimpses into worlds just beyond.”

“Never trust a man who wears jewellery. It was her mother’s best advice, but she’d always wondered where one drew the line.”

“So, I fashion from her missteps a different kind of compass, revealing where a teller of stories should tread compassionately, inquisitively, conscientiously—or not at all.”