About three months into our relationship, Michael and I contemplated eloping in Ireland on the Cliffs of Moher. I had imagined it for quite some time. A modest white dress and my long blond hair blowing in the wind, surrounded by the green of the fields and the blue of the water. Just him and I and a smart mouthed Irishman to carry out the duties of an officiant. But in the end we choose to have a wedding with family at the spot of our first real date (point defiance). These images lingered with me though. So when we had to make the choice between going back and finishing the camino, or going to Ireland, it was Ireland for me.
We arrived in Shannon, rented a car, and drove to Doolin, a small town close to the cliffs of Moher. As we arrived into Doolin, we didn’t really have clear directions on how to find the B&B we had booked. We pulled off the side of the road to look at a map. Well, really, we did the classic pattern in our relationship where Michael doesn’t trust my directions and his military officer side kicks in and he demands to see where on earth I am coming up with this information which I proudly provide absolutely certain that I am 150% correct and that he just doesn’t trust me… and then he kindly points out I had lead us to the wrong side of town. I am still learning left from right it turns out.
After we figure out we need to go in the opposite direction we looked up to see, directly in front of us, the edge of the Cliffs of Moher. Though distant, it was stunning. These wild jagged cliffs I had dreamed of were right there and my husband by my side.