Excerpt
Home

A red sun rises over emerald hills.
A gray fog lies over blue water.
Mounds of earth and stone remind me of my heritage.
The pub in the village is filled with music and laughter as the band plays the songs of my heritage.
Musical lilts fill the air as old men tell their tales in voices heavy with the Irish brogue of my youth.
I travel across that blue water, through the gray fog to see the emerald hills of my family.
Remembering as a child of running over the hills thick with wildflowers, pretending to be a fairy princess.
I travel back to see the red sun as it rises over fields of green.
I return to the home of my family, to my roots, to the Ireland of old.
Villages grow with time. People and places change but in my heart, it will always be the same.
My home, as I leave this world behind, will be the lush green rolling hills of Ireland with family long gone waiting at the pub in the village where I was born.
I’m going home on the white wings of a dove. I’m going home.
Blessed be.