Panic.

I am at the point in the Ireland process where I am panicking. Sitting in my bedroom in Pennsylvania, thinking about all that needs to be done, thinking about how far from home I will be in only 3 days, thinking about missing my family and home. It is ironic for a boarding student, who lives in a dorm room more than at her own home, to worry about being homesick on a 7-day trip, but for me, my time at home is sacred. It is hard to give up that precious time at home to be anywhere else.

But then, amidst all my worrying and my frantic searching for camera chargers and umbrellas, I realize that I am going to Ireland. I put on some Irish music and realize that birthplace of this culture, which is so near to my heart, is so close to being a reality in my life. I start thinking about James Joyce and Oscar Wilde and Brian Friel and I almost cannot contain my excitement. It is unbelievable to think that I will stand where they have stood, I will experience the city, which inspired these literary minds. Every corner of Dublin seems to harbor some relic of these literary giants, whether it is the statues of Wilde and Joyce or the hotel where the Joyce story “The Dead” ends. I start talking to my sister about everything we’re doing in Ireland, I start yelping Dublin, which is both a great idea and a very bad one, because I am immediately so hungry, looking at meat pies and fish and chips and the ice cream, oh the ice cream! As worried as I become about this trip, as much as I freak out and cling to home, I am still absolutely thrilled to be going to Ireland, I can almost taste it, reading Ulysses I can almost hear the din of Dublin, feel the cool Irish breeze, see the glimmering beauty of the green Isle.