Probably the best thing about Ireland so far has been all the people asking me how long I’m “home” for. In a stark juxtaposition to New York, the Irish are, as to be expected, some of the friendliest and most welcoming people I have ever met. I’ve never felt so much like family to pure strangers and I’ve never received so many compliments of character.

That being said, I did get a chance to meet real cousins out in Leitrim. Seamus and (go figure) Kate are sweet people and they’re my blood. Though the Irish mist is ever present, we did get a sunny day over in Drumshanbo at the Mulvanerty residence over the weekend.

My aunt Kimmy, or Adrienne as the Irish call her (her real name), and I visited Seamus and Kate’s house and heard the sad, but hopeful, story of their pup, Fred, who was found emaciated, unable to climb out of the drain he was dumped in at the end of their drive. He was skin and bones, filled with worms, and had his tail chopped off, according to the vet, with something similar to a cleaver. They got him sorted and he’s the sweetest.

The next day, after a rough night out by myself where I made friends and ultimately returned to our hotel at 4am, Seamus and Kate met us at my Great Grandfather’s house in Keshcarrigan (?). I can trace my paternal lineage back centuries to this house.

We even made an equestrian friend along the way.

Pretty damn cool that I really did “come home” to see the house I stood next to at age 9 with my late father, where our blood had lived for centuries.

We returned to Killimor in Co. Galway where Kimmy lives with my uncle Sean, who is largely unintelligible to my American ears. Both sweet as can be, they live far in the country on a sheep farm. I joined them for mass on Sunday in the church where they married 16 years ago, where my father walked her down the aisle. (Side note: for those who know me, you are certainly laughing at the fact I went to mass. Don’t worry, it was only a 35 minute commitment.)

As we were leaving, Kimmy handed me a book of hymns with this inside:

For those too dense to realize, this is for my father. It felt more and more like home every minute I was there. And you better believe I shed some tears in that church for him.

A kind, funny, very drunk fellow named Martin taught me to Waltz and intended to teach me to jive at Treacy’s, the pub where Kimmy and Sean’s wedding reception was held 16 years ago. He didn’t teach me the latter, though all the twists and turns looked like fun. Next time.

We drove out to Shannon Airport after a lunch at the golf course and I am currently awaiting a plane to London where I will be reunited with one of my best friends from my time in Australia. Jenny Cumming, you best be ready because I’m coming for ya! The best of all is, after I’ve seen a bit of London, she and our other friend, Jaye, are returning to Ireland with me.

Steve Cullum and Zan Strumfeld, I will be finding you, as well.

Having homes all over the world where I’m happy, comfortable and welcome makes me one lucky girl. ‘Tis a Blessing to be Irish, I suppose 😉