My family, my home

Seventy years ago my great-grandfather designed the lighting system for the Cobh cathedral; fifty years ago my grandparents left by boat from Cobh for the United States; thirteen years ago I visited here with my family; and just this week I've brought my husband to stroll along the same streets of Cobh as three previous generations of my family has done. Ireland feels at once like an exciting new country and an old familiar home.

The last six days have been a whirlwind of beautiful landscapes and wonderful family. From zipping through the country roads with my Aunt Helen while I held on for dear life, to having a quiet cozy dinner with my cousin Derval. From going all the way to Robert's Cove for a pint only to get there and remember that it's Good Friday and all of the bars are closed, to spending a wild and fun evening in the bar the following night with my family watching rugby and drinking more pints then I care to remember. From Ryan helping my cousin build a real Irish stone wall to spending the afternoon with another group of family in beautiful Kinsale, with my Uncle Frank pointing to all the things we should look at with one of his crutches while my Aunt Ruth scolded him for "swinging it around every which way". And finally, having a bittersweet but terrific last lunch with yet another group of family before saying our goodbyes and dashing quickly to the bus station to catch our bus to Shannon...

Sitting at the dinner table on our first night we were surrounded by a half dozen people carrying on as many conversations quickly, loudly, and all with thick Irish accents. Ryan and I looked at each other and laughed as we realized that neither of us had any idea what anyone was saying. We were sitting with my grand aunts, grand uncles, and second cousins -- or is it first cousins once removed? we never did sort that out -- all of whom I had only met previously for a few days over fifteen years ago, and yet I felt as if I had lived just down the street from them my entire life. Maybe it's the Irish way, or maybe it's just my family, but from the moment we stepped off the plane and were whisked away by my wonderfully sweet and spunky Grand Aunt Kay each person we met has made us feel immediately welcomed and at home. By the time we left Ireland, although only six days later, part of me felt as if I were leaving my home.