Armagh is not new anymore.  Whenever our eclectic little group wanders off to another city for a day or a weekend, we start to talk about going home, and though we miss the states, it is to Armagh we refer, and to Armagh we return each time.

The city, at least for me, has been a challenge since day one—a challenge to explore, to have new experiences, and to unearth every secret hidden within its many walls—but in the interval that has passed Aramgh has become a comfort, too.  There is a security that comes from the ringing of Armagh’s bells, and though the place is no longer mysterious, a fantastic sense of wonder can still be conjured when looking down on the rest of the world from one of the city’s seven hills.  I’ve discovered many places in Armagh, from the friary ruins to the mall, the observatory to the rolling country roads.  I’ve walked the streets in the morning, and explored the forests at dusk.  In the colder nights I have looked up at the stars and seen more than I ever imagined could be lurking in the heavens.

My first impressions of the stony city have not changed, but they have grown and developed the way a child grows; the innocence and the mystery of the place have diminished, but a more rounded, honest personality has emerged.  I will always remember Armagh as my home, even if it was only for a moment in a lifetime.