No, nostalgia is definitely not what I got.  Not nostalgia for Ireland, anyway.  I got some old and some new instead.  Went to some new restaurants — went to some old pubs — saw some new castles — saw some old faces — scoped out some apartment developments — waved to my old house at Beechwood — saw London for the first time — couldn’t wait to get back to Dublin after — saw an inch of snow shut down two of Europe’s most prominent cities — saw Irish kids building an army of snowmen like never happens here anymore — spent an inordinate amount of time in the airport — spent even longer snuggled up inside.

It was a really great trip all around, something I needed badly.  First semester was a rough time.  Nothing in particular was rough about it — nobody died, lost their job, or broke up — but personally, I never seemed to get on my own two feet for very long before something would trip me again.  By the time December 29th hit and I boarded my flight, all I could think was, FINALLY!!!

The three weeks flew by, as I knew they would, but approaching the end wasn’t as DREADFUL, ABSOLUTELY DREADFUL as it was the last time I left Ireland, or the consequent times that my boyfriend left Boston.  After sitting around most weekdays while my boyfriend went to work, I grew pretty restless and ready to jump back into my own work.  I sobbed like a baby in the airport for a few minutes, and then I composed myself and felt okay.  It was maybe the fastest recovery time I’ve had since leaving him.

Now, for the next three weeks, I’m just going to do homework and make bank.  This semester is the beginning of the end, but let’s be honest: College was never what was important to me.  So really — and more importantly — this is just the calm before the next beginning.