I’ve decided I want to live on Inishmore. Inis Mor`. Inish Mor`. However you want to spell it or say it. I could and would live there.
I’ve decided I can’t live far away from my children and grandchildren. I’d surely miss them and it would be asking a lot of them. To not have me around I mean.
I’ve decided my siblings couldn’t live with me so far away. If for no other reason than they would be jealous of where I was living.
I’ve decided my aunts and uncles might tolerate me living there because they would be more than happy to visit.
I’ve decided mom would forbid it but dad would say do it because he would visit no matter what, considering he has angel wings and all.
I’ve decided the island has enough going on there to make me happy. And there’s enough not going on there to make me happy.
I’ve decided I like the stone cottages. The smell of turf. And potatoes.
I’ve decided long ago that I love stones. Rocks. Grey.
I’ve decided I could walk the roads. Bike the roads. Go for long distances and never go far enough to be too far from home.
I’ve decided that the tourists through the summer are not what I want to be. It’s not what I am when I am there and I miss it when I am not there.
I’ve decided that there is too much going on around here and I can’t absorb it all. I need to be someplace where there isn’t too much. But there is plenty.
I’ve decided that I need to know the history and to do that I need to read it, see it, touch it. And it’s over there.
I’ve decided talking to other Ireland lovers and live-r wannabes is a dangerous (depending on your stake in this) activity for me to partake in.
I’ve decided that I will make a decision regarding all of these things I’ve decided at a later date. All I know is that I just know what I have decided.