“And the roots that tie me to a land I’ve never known are callin’ me home.” – Eddie Rabbitt’s Song of Ireland
Forgive me, but the words to the song were circling in my head and I had to share them. I was washing dishes and watching a slow, steady rain fall on the south pasture. I love a rainy spring day for several reasons, but only one of them is the same reason I don’t.
I have always felt that I understood perfectly what Mr. Rabbitt was saying since I was a kid. I’d sit daydreaming about visiting Ireland. I began reading and collecting books about it. Then finally my dream came true. Papa saved and took most of the family to Ireland for 10 days. There is not enough room in this post to do the trip justice. I will just explain the connection that brought this all to mind.
It is the slow, sometimes misty, sometimes steady, rain. The earliest part of the trip we spent in a small town close to Sligo. One day, we were shown around the area by our unofficially adopted brother. He had spent some time in our area with his mom when he and Chad were in their early teens. He spent a good amount of his time with Chad and had reconnected with us through Facebook before our trip. Thankfully, he was free to spend some time playing tour guide for us. But I digress.
Part of the day that we spent riding around with him was like today. I will forever remember us walking through a misting rain to look at a waterfall. There was a paved walking path to it along a fenced pasture with sheep grazing close by. Lambs were running around their mothers and occasionally eyeing people as they walked by. One of many memories I love from just that one day. Multiply that by 9 days.
The difference now between Mr. Rabbitt and I (other than that I am by no means a musician) is that I know what I am missing. That split reason I have is the reminder of Ireland and the nearly painful desire to go back. Where we are is my home and I love the South, but it isn’t my only love.
Memories must suffice though. So I shake my head to clear the fog from my mind and the moisture from my eyes; laugh at myself for being so silly. I may never see it again, but I’ll always be thankful for knowing it firsthand. Now I’ll move on with my day with a quick, silent prayer for Ireland and a ticket to see her again.