Each of my children had been asking us about when they would see “Grandad” — my father who lives across the Atlantic Ocean. I think it had to do with the fact that their “pop-pop” — my father-in-law, who lived 20 minutes up the road — died last year. There was some business to settle back in Ireland, and so we went.
Even though I had never been in it until my 30s, arriving at my father’s home in Ireland is now a relief beginning with a ritual. We arrive on a red-eye. We drive from the airport, not very far to his town. I now switch to driving on the other side of the road rather easily. By the time we arrive, the sun is just rising. We settle around a big round kitchen table and begin to catch up.






Comments