My Second Home

Over this past summer, I traveled to Ireland. The long plane ride over was worth seeing the rolling hills and beautiful green acres once again. After I arrived and settled in, I did what I always do. I walked down the old farm roads to the Atlantic ocean, to take in the magnificent view of my new but familiar surroundings. As I sat on top of the rocky cliffs, with the wind in my hair, I couldn’t help but feel that I was finally home.

Both my Mother and my Father, left Ireland at age eighteen, because of the lack of opportunity. They settled to a new life in America, where my brothers and I were born. Every year since then, my parents have traveled back, bringing my brothers and I with them, to expose us to our Irish culture and heritage, and visit family. Traveling to Ireland every year has sparked my interest in world travel and seeing new cultures.

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It has really helped me get to know who I really am. Although I was born and spent most of my life in America, I feel as if a majority of who I am, is because of my time spent in Ireland.

Ireland holds some of my most precious childhood memories. Whether I was spending long days with my cousins in search of leprechaun gold, or writing poetry about the Emerald Isle while sitting on the Cliffs of Moher, I had a memorable experience. Ireland also holds the people I care about most, my family. Seeing them every year, brings tears to my eyes, because of how much time we spend apart; but it never takes us long to catch up. All their welcoming smiles and their memorable faces, only convince me further, that Ireland is where I belong.

Of course every summer, there comes the day which I must leave my family and friends. Tears are shed by everyone as we try to make the moment last, but we know too well that, all good things must come to end. My tears dry when I realize that I can always think back to the summers and smile knowing I’ll always have a home in Ireland.