Ireland is the land of my husband’s heritage. Before I met him, I had just enough Irish in my family tree to allow me to drink green beer on St. Patrick’s Day (which I understand now is only for Irish wannabes!). So after I fell for this blue-eyed American Irishman and we were planning our future, we decided to discover Ireland together. So on our honeymoon 24 years ago, we traveled to the beautiful land of green rolling hills and picturesque stone structures. We met and drank pints with the locals, enjoyed a peat fire and heard stories as only true Irishmen can tell. We traveled from town to town tracing his family’s roots and fell in love with the charming people and their apparent love of life. We sailed to the Isle of Bufin off the coast of Galway on a big wooden boat and listened to the animals traveling belowdecks. The captain knew my husband’s great grandfather and though I couldn’t understand his brogue, he and my husband smiled, chatted and we were instantly accepted as family. We were honored.
We returned to the States to start our new lives together and have raised two wonderful girls – both with Irish names. We have held onto those memories of Ireland and they have become the foundation to measure how stressed or out of control our daily lives have become. We remember the lovely pace of life there where the most important things were always family, friends, and neighbors. There was always time for tea, a pint or a whiskey. In Ireland, life seemed simpler as it was all about the people with whom we choose to share our daily lives, joys and struggles.
Though my husband and I both work and have busy lives, we barely make time for each other let alone for others. Though we kissed the Blarney stone many years ago, I am not telling a story here. I am sharing a wish that my husband and I can one day return to the sheep-dotted hills of purple and green and count our blessings that we are connected to this magical land of Ireland. Though the rainbows may not lead to pots of gold and merry little men, the beauty and warmth of the Irish spirit have added a richness to our lives that are beyond measure.
In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I have written a short poem:
I had never visited a land as green,
like the prettiest tapestry I’d seen,
With stone walls and hills
Just sheer beauty ‰ÛÒ no frills
Everywhere was a picturesque scene.
The local people were friendly and kind
and were happy that we came there to find
any links to our past
All we did was just asked
they helped and didn’t seem to mind.
We traveled from pretty town to town
tracking my husband’s heritage down
To a small little chapel
where it was hard to grapple
that we had family who had prayed on that ground.
As we met Irish women and men,
whether in the hills, the town or the glen,
we loved their quick smiles
and their peaceful lifestyles
And vowed to live life more like them.
It has been 24 years since our trip
and the years seem to have gone in a blip.
We would love to “come home”
to where the leprechauns roam
and our happiness is well in our grip.
So to end this, my silly composition,
I feel that I owe you an admission.
I hope that you can help me
to take my husband to see
Ireland again as it’s my true ambition.
Thank you and Erin Go Bragh!
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