Baile

Leitir Geis Thiar, Contae Na Gaillimhe - Lettergesh West, County Galway

Home.

The word has meant different things to me at different stages of my life. Physical places, people, experiences.

Last week I was fortunate enough to visit the childhood home of my great grandfather, Michael. The house and its accompanying sheds are nothing more than rock walls now, as the roofs and floors have been returned to the boggy earth. The home sits atop the most beautiful rolling hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and various Irish islands. A lone tree stands guard, battered crooked by the wind. That lone tree is one of the only living links left who knew both Michael and I.

Michael's home, little more than a pile of rocks.

Michael's nephew Jackie and his wife Sarah Ann graciously hosted my friend and I at their home for afternoon tea. Sarah Ann asked if we were hungry upon arrival, and proceeded to uncover an entire table's worth of various sandwiches, cakes, and breads, along with endless pots of tea. As we sat down at the table in the front room overlooking the sea, the brightest rainbow that I have yet to see in Ireland appeared in the middle of the window, ending in the water at Carrickabullog Rocks where Michael used to fish as a boy. We had driven through very heavy rain through Connemara National Park to get to their house, and I was worried that we would get washed out, but the rain cleared as we arrived and stayed away the rest of the evening. So many rainbows appeared during our couple of hours on my family's land, and I couldn't help but feel that it was Michael telling me that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Sarah Ann took us on a short walk up to Michael's home, traversing sloping hills and boggy mounds and burbling brooks. The long grass was the greenest that I'd ever seen, and I was struck by the raw beauty around me. I mentioned to Sarah Ann how I couldn't imagine leaving a place as beautiful as that, and she said that they had to at the time. There was no work anywhere around (this seems to persist to some extent even today, as we had to drive three villages over to get dinner at the only open restaurant for miles). I also mentioned how lucky Michael was to be able to return and visit later in life, just as I was lucky to visit so many years later and get to live in the country for a year. She agreed that it was quite lucky, and then said something that still weighs heavy on me: "Some of them never made it back."

Sarah Ann and I walking down to Michael's home, that pile of rocks just in front of us. In the distance, Carrickabullog Rocks in the water to the right and Crump Island (where members of my family used to live. It is now uninhabited) and Inishbofin to the left.

After our visit with Jackie, Sarah Ann, and their daughter Pauline who stopped by, we explored a couple of the beaches just down from the house. The tide was in and the water was rough so I didn't get too close, but as the ocean roared and the rainbows shined, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride to have a place such as that running through my veins. How lucky am I that I come from rough seas and blue skies and shining rainbows and boggy hills and sparkling stone? Is there anything on this earth that I cannot conquer when this is what I am made of?

Wearing Michael's sweater on Renvyle Beach.

The older I get, the more the definition of "home" changes. As a child, it meant the physical building that I spent my first 18 years of life in. But after moving a few times and meeting so many people and experiencing so many things all over the world, the definition has shifted so much and is far beyond a physical place now. And while I was not born in this old stone cottage on the seaside in one of the most beautiful places on earth, with the strength of the land within me, it's now a place that I get to attach the word home to.

Slán abhaile, Michael. Go raibh maith agat as seo.

Bernadette