As the Novelist Anne Enright discovers, it’s a fight closer to home than she ever expected. Now, she’s going through the emotional process of emptying her childhood home. And while this process has prompted her to work through memories of her parents, she goes into deep contemplation about her mom, Cora, and the colorful memories that they created side by side. Enright recalls this remarkable moment and reveals the tangible history of her family’s story. Through Amy’s eyes, she introduces the emotional burden those remnants leave in their wake.
Enright’s father died in 2016. Yet, he left behind this incredible trove of personal effects that tell so much about the man and the mystique. Among these items were English-Irish dictionaries and a magnifying glass, both representing his intellect and craftsmanship. In addition to the granary he created, there was a workbench where he furnished their home, a product of this paternal hands-on approach to family life. As Enright goes through these things, she struggles along with her subjects—mostly women—who had to face those memories these things brought back.
Cora, Enright’s mother, was alive in 2015 and played a significant role in shaping her daughter’s understanding of family obligations, particularly during Christmas. Her mother’s glasses case, lined with fake sheepskin, serves as a reminder of Cora’s practical yet sentimental nature. Enright remembers her mother’s neediness during COVID-19, which only increased the pressure on their relationship. Eventually Cora began to accept forgetfulness. This adjustment facilitated Enright to get back the love he used to feel for her as a kid.
The emotional landscape grows more fraught still as Enright is confronted with questions about her mother’s consciousness. “Does she still recognize you?” my young adult friends have asked incredulously, reminding me of how unpredictable aging can be. Though Enright had a lot to overcome, she was extraordinarily happy this holiday season. For the first time in her life, she experienced a peaceful, liberated celebration with her family. Her experience of peace in this new setting led her to revisit her childhood. We asked her to describe why she painted the goddess of the moon that hung on her garage wall.
Enright wanted to know more about her father’s legacy. In the course of her search she discovered an extraordinary letter written to him by his own father, in the 1940s. This surprising discovery deepened her family’s narrative and highlighted the theme of legacy in creating identity.
Cora’s poignant words resonate with deeper meaning: “If not now When? If not here Where? If not you Who?” These questions cut to the heart of the need to make familial connections and the critical value in showing up and being there.
As Enright embarks on this tender pilgrimage, she faces the sweet surrender of memory and loss. The act of clearing her family home becomes a profound exploration of identity, love, and the enduring connections that define us.