It does not, however, have a happy beginning.
I was raised just outside Washington D.C., in a big house with a rotating cast of characters, the most steadfast of whom were my maternal grandparents. Grandmama and Dada were --for all intents and purposes-- my parents.
They moved to Austin in the mid 90's and in 1999 I followed suit. We didn't always get along. In fact, Grandmama and I almost never did, but they were two of the few fixed stars in my firmament.
On December 14, 2010 I held my grandmother's hand as she died. Eight days later, my grandfather --my best friend and biggest supporter-- died unexpectedly of liver failure.
To thank my two best friends Kirk and Meghan for supporting me through my grandparents' death and surrounding familial turmoil I bought us all a trip to Ireland using part of a check I received from my grandparents' estate.
Of the three of us only Meghan had voyaged to Eire. It's Megh's favorite place on earth, Kirk --being gingery, freckled and of Irish stock-- had always wanted to go, and me?
Well, I just wanted to go someplace green where I could mourn my grandparents.
