We left Cork determined to return the rental car at the Dublin Airport early enough to get gas and beat the last day of charges. The two and a half hour drive allowed us to say our proper goodbyes to sheep and cow-lined roads, driving on the left, and roundabouts. We made it to the airport on time and headed into Dublin in an Uber, with all our luggage! We returned to The Merrion Hotel for a final stretch in Dublin. One night rolled into two as our flight was cancelled. That allowed us a slower farewell to Ireland.

The final evening in Dublin, we stopped for ice cream at Murphy’s Ice Cream which we learned about by watching the travel documentary Somebody Feed Phil. We were immediately greeted by an energetic young man with an infectious sincerity and joy that extended an immediate invitation. We ordered one scoop of Smooth Chocolate – Seacláid and one scoop of Dingle Sea Salt – Salann (in the same cup) and came inside from the chilly and damp evening. We sat at a table in the back of the shop and the young man who had greeted us approached and asked us about our ice cream. He asked us about where we were from and what brought us to Ireland. During our conversation, I told him I am a writer in Ireland to experience and write about Ireland. I shared that I would be writing about our travels on my blog and in City Lifestyle Magazine. He pulled out a pocket notebook to take note.

Once I saw his pocket notebook — knowing that most all writers I know carry pocket notebooks at all times — I asked him if he was a writer. He said no, and that he just likes to journal. I asked him about journaling. He said he journals when he needs to clear his mind. He journals when he wants to sort things out, and that does not necessarily happen at a regular time and place. He said he journals to slow things down. I shared that his process feels familiar.

We finished our ice cream, I wrote my information in his pocket notebook, and we headed to the hotel to pack before heading home in the morning.

This conversation, on our last night in Ireland, reminded me, centered me, on a gift of this trip. Steeped in elemental gratitude, now is the time to clear my mind, sort things out, slow down, and write. Tell the story of football, sunrises, music, meals, landscapes, and connections. To gather it all in language befitting the place and occasion. Having breathed it all in, now I write.