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scribbled a note , and throwing it across the desk says , “That’ll get ye there . T he State doesn’t pay for those who don’t work”, a clear dig at the father ’ s idleness.
    She took her paper, glad of the fare at least, and headed back to Nannie ’ s. Most likely the Nan borrowed the money for food from Peggy Corbett who was a true saint if ever there was one, and next day we are on the bus. What an adventure. Our first time on a bus, and imagine my delight at getting on it outside of our own door. This was great. The bus to Cork always stopped directly outside mother’s house. There was no shelter at all for the patrons and our shoot leaked as well, so you could be soaked while waiting.  Many a time mother had given total strangers a cup of tea to ward off the cold or the rain. Now it was our turn to board the bus. Little did we know what she faced that terrible day. It drove along the winding roads of Cork and we just delighted in every twist and turn. I saw the Blackwater River in Mallow, the town, and even a train racing the bus. All three of us seemed so happy , and even mother seemed to brighten her sp irits as we got closer to Cork, our ohh ’ s and ahh ’ s, and “look look” becoming more and more excited as the miles went by.
    The fine mist that fell across the city did nothing to dampen our total amaze ment at the tall buildings, the great shops full of go ods, Woolworths and the ‘huge’ R iver Lee. Mother wore a scarf to ward off the rain and I’m sure we had coats , and that’s all I know. The journey out to the hospital was about a mile or so, but it was filled with new scenes for every step we took, and it seemed to fly as we trudged along in the rain. Lill held mother ’ s hand as we walked , and Kyrle and I trailed along behind stopping and gawking into the windows until mother would shout back at us to , “Come on quick will ye, or we’ll be late for the doctor”.
    At the hospital , all I can remember is the old dark waiting area which seemed like a long dingy corridor. I was the first to be called into the even darker doctor’ s office and there, an old, cold- faced man asked me to look through what seemed like binoculars and make a butterfly go into a net. I suppose I also read a chart , though I’m not sure of it. This man seemed to be totally disinterested in me and never once smiled. “Next…..” It was Kyrle’s turn and then the same for Lill. All the while mother sat patiently a waiting the results and our glasses, promising us a trip to Woolworths later. When those results came, they were shocking indeed. He coldly told her not to be bothered too much about the glasses, or returning there again, because within six months it was likely that all three of us would be blind…..and further, not to waste his time in the future. If this was the Ireland of freedom, we were far better off under the British. Mother left in a daze. A s we began walking back into the city, she was distracted with grief and burst into tears somewhere along the W estern R oad . T o this day I hate that part of our city. Not one, but all of us were going into the darkness, and so soon too. As she sobbed openly, none of us knew why, or what had happened . I clearly remember that Lill clutched on to her as Kyrle and I stood wondering what was wrong.
    Such is the measure of my mother ’s optimism that instead of giving up like our father would have done, she determined that she would give each of us a memory so great, so grand, so awesome, that we would be able to conjure up this picture even in the darkness of blindness. She would show us a huge ship and the sheer size of it would stick in our minds. The emigrant ship Innisfallon was moored in Cork Harbour and this would be our picture. We trailed along in the mist, and after what seemed like forever , we got to the ship. It really was huge: black- bodied, grey and white. I saw the windows of rooms, portholes, and men working along its decks. The