When it was finally time to board, we found ourselves on a small plane, much like the one we’d taken from Springfield to Chicago—only this one was emblazoned with a shamrock and the airline name Aer Lingus. Upon boarding the captain announced his name as Seamus O’Connor.
Well. That turned very Irish very quickly.
Another takeoff, more flying. By now I was in some kind of trance or limbo. This was my lot now, to be forever stuck in transit, always hopping from one airport to another amid days and nights that didn’t match my body’s internal clock. I was so tired…so tired.

I dozed off a little once it was morning, and woke up to stewardesses opening window covers and serving breakfast.
The captain’s voice came on, in a prim, polite British accent.
“Good morning, passengers, we hope you had a restful night. We’ve just passed over the Isle of Mann, and will be beginning our descent into London shortly.”
Isle of Mann…London…Whoa. I peered groggily out the window. The sun was just getting high enough to lose its morning softness, and I squinted against its growing glare, trying to see down through the patchy clouds.

We had arrived at the airport two hours before our flight, like you’re supposed to. The trouble is that with a tiny regional airport like Springfield, getting through security takes next to no time, and we found ourselves with an hour and a half to sit and wait.
Once again, Amanda seemed completely calm and relaxed and I was trying desperately to imitate her, even though my mind, emotions, and internal organs were churning.

It was a gray, rainy Wednesday morning when Amanda came to my apartment to help make sure I was ready to go—she being a seasoned traveler, and me having never been out of the country before. I had been up for hours already, unable to sleep, and had packed and re-packed my backpack at least half a dozen times. I’m one of those people who needs very little in reality and yet, when faced with the prospect of travel, feels compelled to pack everything I own, just in case; not an ideal compulsion to have when you’re about to embark on a backpacks-only trip.

It all started out as a joke.
My best friend and her sister had just returned from a month-long excursion to the British Isles, and Amanda was telling me all about it. She mentioned a place in Northern Ireland where they could spend multiple nights in the same place, but explore a host of fascinating sights within walking distance in any direction.
“It’s amazing,” she said. “I want to take you there someday!”

"Keep up, Ceilí. We haven't much time." I pulled my sister's hand deeper into the forest. She whimpered quietly. I knew the running we'd done was too much on her, but I didn't have another choice. We had to keep going forward.

"Victeoiria..."

"No, Ceilí. We musn't stop. I see a field up ahead. We will rest there."  The sun was just going down beyond the hills of Álainn-Ionad, a tiny Gaelic city next to Ireland. It is not considered part of Ireland, but it is not a country of its own. 

Her name was Brighid O'Grady
she was the blacksmith's daughter
she had hair like sunshine and eyes like the sea
and her heart was lost on the second son of the carpenter
his name was Tommy MacMaster
and he was everything a man should be

Brighid O'Grady
she went to Mass every morning
she gave her heart to Jesus and took His in return
and when he didn't have to deliver something into town
she saw Tommy MacMaster
and that never failed to make her day

Brighid O'Grady

you came running
over the green fields you came running to meet me
you took my heart by surprise
you came dancing
wildflowers and windswept trees, smiling out loud
you took my hand and spun me
you came singing
echoes in the ruins of a majesty at once ancient and undying
you took my breath away
and somewhere
somewhere back in your dark, wet earth
somewhere between the cows dappling the hillside
somewhere in the laugh of the creek through Kilfree
somewhere down the winding one-lane road

Note: I wrote this story based off of the traditional Irish song, The Fields of Athenry. I've pasted it at the end of the story, but I did not write it.

-----------

This is going to look really long and scary, but-- Ok, never mind. It is long. And it might be scary. But I promised it, so here it is. Have fun...