You mean it’s over?

This Sunday, we leave Northern Ireland and return to the States.  It’s as if I’m returning to another life in a parallel universe; everything here feels familiar and yet noticeably different.  When I go home, coins will be disused, debit cards will work more often, I’ll be able to drive, and my own bed will be waiting for me.  I’m trading green fields and rocky cliffs for green trees and blue mountains, a class on playwriting for classes on science, music appreciation, and film and literature, and a brand new family for the one I’ve had for years.  In a way, I’m glad it’s over.  I’ve had my fill of foreign life, I’m exhausted, and I’m ready for a week or two of rest before the school year starts back.  At the same time, I can’t imagine life without my classmates and teachers.  Even though I came to Ireland for the beauty of the land, they’ve managed to wiggle their way into my heart further than the countryside ever could.  It won’t be hard leaving Ireland, but it will be hard leaving them.

I’ve had so much fun on this Ireland.  I’ve had adventures and misadventures, I’ve maxed out my writing output and pleased an audience, I’ve shared living quarters and late-night walks with some awesome friends, I’ve learned so much about the world outside my protective bubble, and I’ve seen some of the most beautiful places in the world.  So will I come back.  Someday, yeah.  Maybe not next year or the year after, but someday I’ll be back.  There’s so much I’ve seen and so much I haven’t seen that Ireland won’t be able to keep me away.  Who knows?  Maybe the next time I’m here, I’ll be bringing a family of my own.

Until then, Isle of Erin, may the road rise to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back, and may you be three hours in Heaven before the Devil knows you’re dead.