I took the train up to Skerries from Dublin one of the days I was in Ireland this past June. I have a set of photographs my dad and uncle took while on a trip to Ireland in 1977. I love those photographs. What I know of Skerries comes from those pictures, a few from a trip there in 2003 that other extended family members took, and from Google searches. I anticipated feeling excitement and joy while there, but I could not have anticipated the full effect of it.

When I arrived in Skerries I walked from the train station to the windmills. Then made my way towards the waterfront. I started listening to The Staves on my walk to the water. The Staves is a favorite band of mine. And though they are English, it felt the most fitting for my stroll around Skerries. As I came upon the docks, I took out the photographs from 1977 to compare them. I stood in wonder and in awe. From there I made my way down to the water and sat on a rock formation for a half hour, listening to The Staves, watching the water and the birds flying over it. I felt at home there.

I don’t know that I’ve ever felt truly connected to a culture or ancestry. I love being Irish. As an adult I now love and honor my fair skin. I had been looking forward to traveling to Ireland for a long time. Once I was there I felt a connection to Ireland and its people. Everyone was so kind and warm. I feel like Dublin was a pretty diverse city. The smaller towns I went to felt a bit too homogenous. I would love to have property in Skerries one day. But I don’t necessarily see myself living there full time.