You know what’s been whispering to me lately? Ireland. I’m not really sure why. I follow some British folks on Instagram and see their meanderings in the isles, so that made me long for far off sandy coves and green glens, but it’s more than that.
Yesterday I was walking with the boys from the doughnut shop to the library and a little gentleman with orange hair and a plaid coat walked past, then turned, looked me in the eyes, and said, “top of the morning to you.”
This was after the Collins siblings had taken us to an irish pub in Cannon Beach and the place we stayed just happened to have mossy green rocks straight out of a stone circle. I kept imagining I was there as we toured little sea caves and I picked flowers in the green banks along the river.
Then my mother in law pulled a beautiful floral book off the shelf and said, “This book looks like you.” it was a book about a small sea village in Ireland. (I wish I’d written down the name of it…oops).
I have Irish heritage. I have the freckles and green eyes and a red headed mother with Irish citizenship to prove it… but I’ve never been. My family has all been a few times but it’s never been a very large draw for me. But now it feels as though it wants me.
Can that happen? Can a place call to you to come to it? Are the rocks remembering my ancestor’s home and seeking to find her children? Should I go? Or is there still some other meaning yet to be discovered?
Maybe I just need to dye my hair red.
In the meantime I’ll bask in the beauty I got to be in this past week. (All the collage pictures are from Arch Cape and Hug Point on the Oregon Coast) Can you see why I kept thinking of the green isle?West coast, best coast!