Mutton Light

Mutton Light stands on the shoals just west of Galway's Salt Hill. For many Irish emigrants, this was the last vestige of their homeland to disappear from the horizon as they headed across the Atlantic, bound for the United States.

Both of my parents' families hail from Ireland. My mother's, from the lush green farmland of Galway. My father's, from the gritty outer rings of Belfast. I was raised to believe that to be Irish was an ethnicity, a culture, a political reference, a religious heritage, a way of mind, and a point of pride.

I have been to Ireland many times, both as a child and as an adult. It speaks to me on a visceral level, as if something in my blood recognizes when I have returned "home."

In honor of St. Patrick, I lift a glass today to all those who said goodbye to Mutton Light so I could have the chance to have everything else.

"An té a bhíónn siúlach, bíonn scéalach." – Irish Proverb

From the Gaelic: "He who travels has stories to tell."