Well, we made it back safely from Europe to find the Rockies heading to the World Series (!!!) and the Broncos sheepish from the most embarrassing loss in their history. I’m glad I was spared that one, peacefully watching, although not completely understanding, the Rugby World Cup in an Irish pub instead. But seriously, this was the most amazing two weeks of my life and I cannot begin to cover it right now, so a download of my trip journal will follow in a few days.
In the two-and-a-half years we have been together, including the last ten months of living together, that is the most consecutive time Mike and I have spent together in one shot, and I am happy to say that we didn’t kill each other. That means something, right? London was a blast, and Italy was one of the most gorgeous places I have ever been. I kept telling Mike that I felt like I didn’t deserve to be there. It was as if it were out of a movie, or a storybook, or a dream. I cried as we were landing in Ireland, wishing that my mom were there to show me her homeland. She always said that we would go to Ireland together one day, but we never made it. So, it was bittersweet, but following that brief sojourn into my slowly dwindling grief, I was able to really enjoy that part of the trip. Just because my mom is gone doesn’t make it stop being my culture, right? I tipped up a pint for her, and then we went exploring. It was amazing! I am now officially a world-traveler.
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