2016 Study Abroad Essay Contest. At nineteen years old, I climbed to the top of Arthur s Seat, stood at the rocky

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1 Study Abroad Essay Contest Jessica McCartney 24 October 2016 Ireland Program Spring At nineteen years old, I climbed to the top of Arthur s Seat, stood at the rocky edge, and looked over the city of Edinburgh in its entirety. Nineteen and I made sangria and seafood paella under the guidance of a chef in a Barcelonan kitchen. Nineteen and I poured the perfect pint of Guinness in Dublin and sipped the tastiest glass of Heineken in Amsterdam. Nineteen and I peered through the gates of the Buckingham Palace and watched Wicked from a fifth row seat in the Apollo Victoria Theatre. Nineteen and I explored the largest and liveliest street market in Glasgow and discovered there is nothing as delicious as a freshly baked coconut macaroon. At only nineteen years old, I saw more of the world than I ever imagined I would. I had the opportunity to explore different countries and cultures, and I took it. I grasped it with both hands, and I will be forever grateful for what, and where, it brought me. At nineteen, I found comfort in my return to a small Irish town after each travel abroad. A small town in a small country that stole a bigger piece of my heart than any of the amazing sights I had the pleasure of seeing in my travels. The Sagrada Familia in Barcelona was stunning a work of unfinished art adorned with stained glass that lit up the inside with radiant colors. A sight that left me breathless upon entering. And yet, the simple beauty of the stone church that became my temporary parish in Maynooth, Ireland, held a far greater place in my heart. Walking through the West End of London, with its endless theaters and stores and restaurants lining street, was an adventure. The

2 2 street lined with flickering marquees boasting of musicals that I d only dreamed of seeing was awe-inspiring. And yet, walking through the little winding streets of Killarney and Galway and Bray, and popping into cafes that emitted smells boasting of the scrumptious delights within, brought more satisfaction to my heart. At nineteen, I found a home in a town that lies 3,500 miles away from my own home in Michigan. Thousands of miles away from my parents, from my sisters and my brothers, from my niece and nephew. Miles and miles away from those I love most in this world. Nineteen and I was more homesick than I can ever remember. The desperate longing for familiarity was a physical pain in my stomach, an ache in my bones, and a throb in my heart. It would hit me unexpectedly sitting in my lecture class among a hundred students, walking the busy streets of Dublin, lying in bed at night staring at empty walls. The reality of the overwhelming distance would slam into my thoughts and leave me breathless. A phone call away becomes less of a consolation when dealing with a five-hour time difference. Nineteen and I leaned on God more heavily than ever before. I traveled the roads of Ireland holding His hand. I flew through night skies and landed in unfamiliar cities with Him by my side. I depended on my Father in heaven to look after me while my father on earth felt so far away. One bond was rebuilt, another was tested. Both were strengthened. Nineteen and I learned that happiness is not a destination. It is a decided state of being. Nineteen and I realized that it was up to me to choose happiness wherever I went. Whether it was a hill in Edinburgh or a theatre in London or a marketplace in Glasgow, I

3 3 had to choose the moment and choose happiness. Nineteen and I learned that the world around me is the greatest teacher, and to be a good student, I need only take part in it. To learn, I must experience. Nineteen and I knew that there were more adventures to come, more hills to climb, more moments to choose happiness. Nineteen and I realized that it was not supposed to end with Ireland. My adventure had just begun. * * * Knowing this, I will forever be thankful to Ireland for showing my nineteen-yearold self what it was to experience and to risk and to live. She has a place in my heart, the isle of emerald green, and I know I have a home in her for the rest of my life. Ireland tested me and rewarded me. She presented me with struggles and with endless beauty. She showed me what it was to miss home more tangibly than I could have imagined and what it was to find a new home in a place that was once so foreign. No, I could never pack up and move there. As excited as I was to enter the relaxed atmosphere of Irish society, the lack of clear deadlines and the unhurried pace of locals brought me more stress than serenity. I do not even know if I will make it back to my small, Irish town of Maynooth one day. While I love it dearly, and can think of nothing more thrilling than going back, I recognize that my chances are slim. If there s one thing living in a foreign country for four and a half months taught me, it is that fact trumps fantasy sometimes. But that s okay. I m okay with that because I recognize that it was never meant to be permanent. I came to Maynooth with that mind. I traveled 3,500 miles with the mindset that this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It was my chance to shake hands with the Emerald Isle, making direct contact with the vivid green substantiating her existence. My curious fingers grazed lush grasses,

4 4 my searching eyes found solace in the endless rolling fields. It was my chance to give a loving embrace to my great-great-great grandpa Thomas McCartney. The man to whom I owe, in part, my existence and who I envisioned repeatedly walking in the bends of the dirt roads and leaning against the open doors of pubs. It was my chance to hold on tightly for a few moments and then let go. At nineteen years old, walking with suitcase in tow to the bus that would take me away from Maynooth, I knew that the images of the town in the early morning would never leave me. I knew that I would not need another twenty years to know that this land was special. I would not need the rest of my life to ensure that a place was secured in my heart for the country. I would not need a permanent residence in county Kildare to preserve my bond. It was already done. From my first contact, that initial outreach of my hand, I was irrevocably connected. At nineteen, about to board the plane, I knew that it was okay to let go. I could release my grip, withdraw my hand, step back and walk away, with my head turned slightly. Just enough so that I got one last glimpse. Just enough so that the endless green permeated my sight once more. Just enough so that I saw her one last time in all her simple glory. A vision in emerald. * * * The connection remains. My presence lives on in Ireland just as her presence lives on in me. Distance has not changed it, nor has time. Both will attempt to erode my precious memories, but they will fail in eliminating them completely for they are not only stored in my mind. Their importance calls for residence in a far more protected place. A place so intrinsic to my identity, if it were to go quiet, so too, would I. The memories are

5 5 bound tightly in my heart, the very source of my life. They are held within a fortress of muscle, a concealed safe. Impenetrable. Unreachable. Secure. Distance and time cannot reach them. Try as they might, they cannot unlock the safe and destroy what lies within. It opens only with a key. A key that is long gone, left behind in a land of emerald green.