From Dublin

Flying away from a 12 day trip to Ireland. My wife and mother-in-law–along with our kids–traveled from Türkiye to County Wexford in Ireland, where we visited my brother-in-law.

The trip was very nice, and overall we found Ireland lovely. The countryside was green and vibrant, and we just happened to visit in the hottest days in May on record. Which wasn't terribly hot for someone living in Kocaeli, but still.

I Would Live There

We kept talking throughout the trip about whether or not we could see ourselves living in Ireland, and the recurring answer was absolutely yes.

It was a blast to watch the kids playing in parks with kids in English. When I take the kids to a park in Türkiye, it's often hard for me to engage fully with what they're doing since I often can't understand what the other kids are saying.

For me, I missed the familiar comfort of being able to do basic problem solving out in the adult world without feeling like I need my wife or another family member to help translate.

Grafton Street

On our last day, we traveled to Dublin to do a bit of sightseeing and shopping. I took the kids around the Stephens Green Shopping Center where they mostly complained about their feet being tired.

But along the way, We stopped for a drink of water and a rest in the food court on the second floor. Looking out the window, I saw a storefront that struck me as entirely familiar and meaningful.

It was, in fact, the storefront before which Glen Hansard performed Say It To Me Now in the opening sequence of the movie Once. This movie has stuck with me over the years, and I absolutely love Glen's music. I got to see him live in Eugene, Oregon shortly after finishing college. For his first song, he stood on the front of the stage without any amplification and sang Say It To Me Now, just like in the film.

You Can't Go Back Home

I'm getting emotional now even as I'm writing about it. Those were simpler days. Before the Pandemic. Before addiction and substance abuse issues tore through my life and my family's lives like a hurricane. Back when it would've been shocking to think that any large percentage of Americans might think fascism was, you know, something you just kinda had to do sometimes for the economy.

Yet, I was only a kernel of the person I would later become. That was before recovery and before I met my wife and learned what it really meant to be loved. It was before my beautiful kids taught me what it means to really care for someone more than myself. It was before I took my first Turkish lesson on Duolingo. Or my first Finnish lesson. Or my last.

I yearn for those days again, but I would never want to live a life that isn't the one I'm living right now. This tension fuels my hopes and hurts, my goals, my fears, my politics, and my priorities. I can't go back home, no matter how badly I want to. And yet, I don't need to, because my home is here. My home is now. And truly it's the only home I ever had.

Take Shelter In Today

To mourn my past as though it were a lost home is to miss the point of this life altogether. It is a form of voluntary homelessness. So, this is my reminder to myself to take shelter in the joys of today. Memories of the past are like a legend about a foreign land–fun to tell around a campfire, but there's nothing there to build a life upon.