“My body feels young but my mind is very old. So what do you say? You can’t give me the dreams that are mine anyway. Half the world away…” ~Oasis
I miss Ireland, the smell of rain in the air as I step off the plane, the kiss of sun just around the next bend, and the feisty people who might just push me as soon as hug me. The country calls my name, even after nearly seven years away from each other. When I think of home I think of Ireland.
It honestly doesn’t feel like it was nearly seven years ago. My feet clearly remember walking the streets of Dublin. My hands recall reaching out to touch the statue of an angel in Oxford. My backside remembers sitting on the same bench on which William Shakespeare courted Anne Hathaway near Stratford. Oh, this ache in my mind and in my soul for the lush greenery of the Irish countryside is very real and ever present.
I must return. If not now, then soon. If not soon, then at least later in life when I still have control of my faculties and can still appreciate it for the oasis that it is. If I never went anywhere else in my life I would be content in saying that I had Ireland for a time, and that Ireland had me. But it’s half the world away, and it seems farther with each passing moment since I was last there.
When I hear someone speak with an Irish accent I close my eyes and imagine I’m still there, walking the avenues, gazing up at the castles, or trying to decipher some gaelic lilting phrase from a native. I think perhaps I was meant to be born there, to a couple who always read before bed and wanted a son more than anything else in the world. Just thinking about it keeps me centered, especially at times when I feel most scattered. Every time it rains I smell the Irish earth rising up to meet me once again.
The anticipation builds with the hope that we will be together again soon.