St. Patrick's Day: Alas, or is it A Lass?

It is 1978. I am visiting my Gramma Molly in New York City. In a week, I will be in Ireland, visiting her homeland, for the first time. I will meet my relatives in County Clare. They will say, "Welcome Home!" I, the Southern California lass will, at first, be bemused--and then it will hit me. Yes, Ireland is my homeland, the place where my people came from, come from. They sailed a dizzying Atlantic years ago, the same ocean I fly over, zoom zoom, suspended, in suspense, never to be the same once I arrive, and hear their voices, see their eyes, in them see my own reflected. Here's to the undertow of time, circular and persistent, the ancient currents binding heart and home. Happy St. Patrick's Day.