A rush of green envelopes me as we drive down the small road. With the window down I can smell the sweet fresh air. I can feel the light rain, so soft it's just a cloud mist in my hand trailing out the window. I know without a doubt that I am in Ireland, a green palace of peace. I am locked in time. This moment could last one second or one day; either way I'll remember it forever. I am in Ireland, the most beautiful place I have ever seen.

The countryside is a sanctuary for the old life. I watch the sheepdogs herding while the master calls out commands, and I see the water trickling down the mountain from a cold fresh spring. Sometimes I lean back and watch the grasses flow back and forth in one continuous motion. As the views wrap around me, it's hard not to become lost in the beauty and forget all troubles. My idea of the world shrinks to the tall mountains that stand like angels on my shoulders, resolute symbols of strength. Sights surround me and it's as if the world is at my fingertips, I have to reach out for it.

As I continue to lean back the sounds swirl around me, what I don't hear that makes it so wonderful. I don't hear the cars racing by as people try to get to their jobs and go places, always bustling. I don't hear the sound city sidewalks filled with people, speaking, without understanding oblivious to what I sense. All these sounds are replaced by the ever-present sheep grazing leisurely as they move around; their feet clicking the rocks. In all this quiet and peace with only the quaint sounds of sheep and water, I can sometimes hear other voices running through the flowing current. They're reaching out to me, whispering in my ear, then gone in an instant. The sounds are incredible and strange reminding me there is more to life than going places and doing things.
Now, we have stopped and a new part of this experience begins as we stop, and as we get out of the car and I simply lean back and sit on the grass. Reaching back I don't even think its grass; the texture is not scratchy or itchy, only soft and smooth. This grass feels velvety and more comfortable than any rug I have ever lain on, and it is stitched as if by the hand of God. Reluctantly, I rise to my feet and walk over to rocks leaping lithely from one to one. I reach a stream where I reach down and touch the water. Almost immediately a cool rush washes over me. The cold water vitalizes me and sends a charge of energy into my arm and then my entire body. Taking my hand out of the water a gust of wind comes whipping by bringing a bit of color to my cheeks. This wind is a combination of everything I feel about Ireland. In it I feel a connectedness and sense of belonging. The wind also brings to me hope; hope I can achieve whatever I set my eyes on and never give up. As the wind subsides, the feeling fades away but a hint stays with me and it's all the hope I'll ever need. This feel of Ireland is one I'll never forget.
Ireland is a place that creates a medley of emotions and ideas for me. I love the softness of the grass and the green grassy hills; I love the mist that dances from the sky and the lushness of the rural paradise. Ireland also runs much deeper it's a specter of the past life. This Irish countryside is where all things fall into place for me.