Our journey began, not with a trip to the airport, but a trip to Boston. We had booked the transatlantic portion of our trip on Aer Lingus from Boston to Dublin. There were good fares on roundtrips between Boston and Dublin, and since our journey would be ending up in Belfast, it seemed to make sense. We are lucky to have old friends Steve and Chris in Massachusetts where we could leave our car and they would drive us to and from the airport.

With our large bags packed and weighed (mine coming it just a little shy of the 50 pound limit), and filling the trunk of the car, it felt like we should be driving to the airport, not to Boston. It would be six hours before we got to Steve and Chris’s, a bit more before we got to the airport approximately 3 hours before our 9:15 pm flight.

The drive was smooth and easy, the day sunny and clear.

At the airport, special services came through for us with a wheelchair at the ready. In addition to saving me from long walk with my neck, one of the best things about getting wheelchair assistance is that it gets you right to the front of every line and the privilege of boarding first. After some glitches with Aer Lingus seat selection process, we managed to get two seats together on the side of the plane, rather than the dreaded middle.

Usually on long flights like this, I would read for a while and hope it got me sleepy enough to try to nod off after a while. Somehow my brain was just too full to leave space the new book I was reading: The Midnight Bookshop. My Kindle never left its baby roo pouch on the seat in front of me. Amazingly, I seemed able to do what I can never do at home: relax. What kept me “grounded,” so to speak, was the gratitude I felt for the trip ahead. Gratitude had always worked for me as a morning and evening prayer, and it served me well on the long flight. I was eventually able to rest my eyes, and I think I nodded off a few times, at least enough to not feel exhausted when we got to Dublin.

         Being able to travel like this, to have time alone with Santo, to spend quality time with friends across the ocean, to sail on the magnificent Queen Mary in a style that my immigrant ancestors could never have dreamt of; these blessings flowed like a soothing balm on my usually anxious mind. Isn’t this what vacations are for?