Friday 10 February 2012

What family means to me - #dosomethingyummy post 2

This is my second contributory post to Nickie's prompts at Typecast.  The campaign aims to bring awareness to childhood cancer.  Pop over to Nickie's blog once your finished reading to check out the rest of the links. 

What my family means to me

I was born in Dublin, the youngest of a family of nine children.  We lived in the suburbs, quite close to the city, in a two-up, two-down.  Yup, two bedrooms for eleven people.  My dad worked hard and provided well for his huge family.  My mum stayed at home and looked after us as only an Irish Catholic mother can.  It was cramped, we didn't have much.  Although, I can only say this in hindsight.  While I was there, living it, it never seemed like anything but home. Maybe six girls to one bedroom was a lot, but it made us all so close.  Maybe there wasn't luxuries, but Mary (my mum - everyone called her Mary. Her children, grandchildren. Everyone.) baked almost daily, sweet and savoury pies, scones with jam and cream.  And you could bring a friend home for dinner, unannounced and she never batted an eyelid. 

Being the youngest, I was spoilt.  Not with "stuff", but with so many more important things.  I always had someone to turn to.  I always had someone to visit.  I was taken out for treats by my older siblings all the time.  I had my first niece when I was 6 and each year our family continued to grow.  And it never felt too big.  Never felt too loud.  Never felt too crowded.  I was always surrounded by love, by laughter, by people who cared.

Since moving away from Dublin in 2002, I've constantly missed my family.  We keep in touch how we can, but I sometimes feel out of the loop.  Babies are born, people move on and I miss it so much.  But they're always still there for me.  I'll always be a part of them, even while I'm apart from them.

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