IT'S A DAD'S LIFE:I will miss so many things, but I really want to see if we can cut it in wellies, writes Adam Brophy
IT'S A BIG day chez Dad's Life. The elder turns seven, and with that we have the usual drama of birthday celebrations. This year, however, they are overshadowed somewhat by the fact that we are moving from the only house the kids have ever known.
It's not just a home move, it's a perspective adjustment. I'm used to looking out my front door and seeing my neighbour's front door. If I need milk or a beer or a rasher or some political or philosophical commentary, I walk 30 yards to the best shop in Ireland, the Vine Tree on Ballybough Road.
I pick my way over the produce of the local canine population, nod hello to some fetching teen girls enjoying their morning perambulation in pyjamas, enter, converse, purchase and return home in approximately two minutes.
For a pint, 100 yards in the opposite direction has me seated with a cold one in the comfort of Cusack's. From today, the closest dairy supplier will be the cow in the field adjacent to us, and the hunt for a decent new local is on.
The elder turns seven, and she has no idea what awaits her. Outwardly she is hugely excited, super-keen to launch her new life. As is her younger sister, who I suspect will have a far easier transition. The elder doesn't fully grasp the network she has, and how much time it will take to reproduce that in her new home.
She has street friends, school friends, family friends. She has relatives, acquaintances, kids she swims or dances with. She chats to the old ladies on the road - they exchange dog tips. She knows her 'hood. She understands what the canal was built for, how the library was constructed on the site of the German bombings, she likes the look of the local church though she's barely seen its interior and she grumbles at going to the recycling centre.
She knows the cafes and the playgrounds and the shortcuts. She could spread out a bit further too and direct anybody to the nearest supermarket, while the path into town is a well trod one.
She is a child of the city in a way my suburban self never was.
Writing this I realise that she quite probably won't miss these things as much as I will. That cheers me because I'm ready to leave them behind, even if it is a wrench. For every thing I love here, there is a counter balance. The occasional drunk roaring in the street I can handle, it's the constant, simmering madness, so close you only have to lift your hands from your eyes to see it, that worries me.
That edginess was appealing in my 20s, hell I won't lie, it still gives me a buzz now, but I don't want my girls too close to the fire. There will be many opportunities to poke at it in later years when, hopefully, they'll have some idea of the risks involved.
But concern for the girls in itself isn't a big enough reason to up sticks and march on. In the time we've been here we've seen many kids grow into fine upstanding young men and women, who view us as desper- ately unhip and out of touch.
No, the girls would be fine, but I would worry more than if we were elsewhere. And I want to see if we can cut it in wellies. If we can cope with proper dark and silence.
I voiced concern about my concerns to my counsellor, another service John the proprietor of the Vine Tree provides. His reply: "He who hesitates is lost, Adam."
I took off down the road with re-invigorated purpose only to become maudlin again when I realised no other corner shop on the planet is likely to provide advice of this calibre. The urge to stay put resurrected itself, only dispersed by my inability to suggest this to my already stressed wife in case she twigged what was keeping me here was the off-licence at the end of the road. A concept worse than revealing another woman.
So, exactly seven years after our lives changed irrevocably (for the better, of course, never fear dear daughter), we're wrapping up the herd and transplanting ourselves to a different world. I don't doubt the kids will have some problems adjusting, but they run headlong into everything and find what works.
They might not know it, because their parents' job is to convince them we have some idea what we're doing, but we're relying on them this time round. To knock down walls and smooth our path, because kids bring you into a community.
Happy birthday baby girl. Welcome to your new life.