We had been walking around for what seemed like hours, in and out of small stone churches, ruins, and old castles nestled in people's backyards. As we climbed the hill, the sun began to shine behind the slate gray clouds, casting mystical shadows across the Irish landscape. I was thirsty and tired but we had come here to see all things magical and I wasn't going to miss a moment. A misty rain had been falling and my red hair was wild. Now, the sun was struggling to come out. It was quite warm despite the mist. We climbed, looking like the oddest couple in Ireland. I looked like a native with my red hair, freckles, and green eyes. Bill was dark-skinned, exotic-looking. People had looked at us as if to say, "Look at that stranger defiling a good Irish girl."
It didn't phase us. We were here to soak it all in. I wanted Bill to see where my family was from. I wanted to feel the magic of ancestry. At the top of the hill overlooking vast green fields dotted with thatched cottages, we found the ruins of what was once a monks' abbey. Grass and weeds had grown through its foundation and vines twined their way around half-standing walls. All at once, I felt a hush and a pause as I surveyed the scene. Something about those ruined abbeys and castles held for me a beautiful mysticism that swept through my whole body. I turned to face my husband. God he looked amazing. His brown hair flowed around his shoulders in the breeze and his large brown eyes scanned the horizon.
