This being, March, and with St. Patricks day just past it has really made me miss Ireland. I am of Irish and Choctaw descent. Both earthy, both stubborn, both resourceful, both spiritual, both strong, and both always right.
My first trip to Ireland, was quite frankly, a trip of need. I had an overwhelming need to go to Ireland. I can't explain it except to say, I had an overwhelming need to go home. I was so homesick I was miserable. No, you didn't misread that, it was my first trip to Ireland. You see, I believe in inherited memories. That's the only explanation I could come up with. I had memories of a home I had never been to, a home I had never seen or felt.
So off to Ireland my sweet husband took me. We landed in Shannon, rented a car, and hit the road. Never a plan, never a care of what if. We loved it. I treasured every moment of it. On the Cliffs of Moher, I had a very spiritual experience. I can't explain it, but if you've ever had one of this kind, I don't need to. It just was. We visited many tourists things as one would do. But for me, just feeling the ground, touching a wall or a stone or walking through a graveyard was very comforting. I felt loved by this place as I have never felt before.
My great grandmother was from Ireland. My biological father's people were from Ireland, Kennedy's. Someone, that came before me, that wanted to go home to Ireland so badly, left that memory for me. Just like my whiskey colored eyes were inherited, so was this memory of home. It was my pleasure to fulfill this desire. It was an honor to be given the gift of knowing the belonging of such a place as Ireland.
One day I'll tell you the story of being accidentally locked in a castle. It really happened to Mike and I on our first trip there.
American by birth. Irish by heart.
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