Dervala rides again, and again

I often drive my browser over to Dervala.net in hopes of finding she's posted something new. She's not a compulsive blogger, so sometimes it'll be weeks between new words. I'm never quite sure why I go back so doggedly, until her next post pops up and reminds me why I read anything at all. She rarely writes about things I care the least about, but I always end up caring by the end. I've quoted her gentle, diaphanous prose here before, but there's never a problem with going back to the well when the water's so sweet. This is from her recent tribute to her father on his 65th birthday: When my sisters fought in the back seat, Dad would stop the car outside a church. “Go inside and pray for each other,” he’d order, “And don’t come out until Baby Jesus knows you mean it.” We never disobeyed him, though he didn’t go to Mass, and we were fairly sure he never consulted Baby Jesus on anything. They’d slam the car door and in they’d stomp, torn between enmity and a common enemy. “It’s important to give them something to unite against,” he’d say, as we watched them march back down the gravel path, friends again but scowling at him. It took us years to realize that he kept his stash of private jokes in plain sight. ..