The Julia Rose Show

To Ireland, With Love.

Oh, Ireland, I came to you on my knees. A wounded woman, you seemed to glow through my teary eyes. I was enticed by your promise of Family and Community and Culture. Oh, they were beautiful! A solitary kitchen table I have not seen so many times before. A stew of dancers, from so many walks of life, pulsing together… on one rhythm, one beat, one sound. Practice, I met for what felt like the first time in years… I met her Former and her After, and she became me. And those smiles… oh, how they wooed me. Happiness, to you, seemed so effortless. An equation to simply fit myself into. I met you, Ireland, and fell in love.

And then my wounds began to heal. The tears dripped down my cheeks and my vision cleared. I suddenly noticed, like everywhere else I’ve been, the strain in the smile. I began to see the weary shadow dance across the eyes as they twinkled upon a laugh. I witnessed a professor look in the mirror only to stop professing, his magnificent voice fading to a whisper.

My dear Ireland… how I wanted you to be my ending. I was waiting for you to fall to your honorable knee and ask my hand. I would have said Yes. I would have pulled you into my arms and danced and cried and rejoiced. We would have been a single cell then, you and I. We would have become one. Yet you never did descend to this beautiful green earth. To me. You just kept walking. Even when I stopped and asked you to wait, you trudged forward with your chin sober and stiff.

Still, my Eire, I hold you with affection. I came to you to cure me, to alleviate the pain of not knowing Me. But you didn’t. And you never could. You simply held open your welcoming arms and embraced what was always going to be. You guided me… back to me. And for that, my heart is endless in its gratitude.

I am happy to have known you as I did.

Gra

Photo by Gordon Wolford via Google.com