Back from Heaven

I flew in from Europe last night, after a little over two weeks of holiday.

Back on the ground, again. (Sigh)

I was traveling with two of my boys and visiting family in England for the holidays. That was great, but it was the week I spent with my boys in Ireland that was the best.

It’s a little weird traveling with grown-up children, as a single mother. We hung out in pubs; went for long hikes through the magical landscape; and drove to little towns on the western edge of the country. When we were in the pubs at night, I could tell that people wondered what our relationship was. Here I was, with two strapping boys by my side, hoisting our pints of Guinness.

“This is my Mom,” the eldest would often say, when we met others.

“You don’t look old enough to be his mother,” one young man replied.

Well, gee, that bloke must have kissed the Blarney Stone - to give him the gift of the gab.

My son had told me that he is way past the “embarrassment” of hanging out with one’s mother - a problem any parent with teenagers understands. I have walked down many streets in my life as a parent with children trailing in my wake, trying to look like they haven’t a clue who I am.

But now, it seems, they like my company. And it comes in handy to have two big boys as my bouncers in a pub. If I had been traveling alone, I would not have sidled up to a bar in a strange place. But this time, I listened to Irish music with them, and watched them play snooker with some locals. I played a game, too.

And they helped with the man we came to call the “Lurker.” We had been sitting in one of the pubs in town, when a middle-aged man, bellied up to the bar beside me. We began a friendly conversation. It turns out, his ex-wife lives in Canada. (That was revealed early in the conversation.) My son later told me that I should have seen that as a clue.

“He was letting you know that he was single, Mom.”

Who knew? That’s what every woman needs a 23-year-old son for - to remind you how men think.

Anyway, we soon set off for another place, where live music is played nightly. And after half an hour or so, who should we see standing at the bar, reading a paper ever so casually ?

The Lurker. I chose not to lock eyes with him, and my sons decided that if one of them needed to go to the bathroom, they should take turns, so as not to leave me alone.

That worked well, until we all moved to the snooker table. They got involved with their game, and as I sat at a table nearby, he approached me, his face looming in the darkness of the pub. I can’t even remember what he asked me - if I was having fun, I think. And I said, yes thanks, I was.

Then another strange character came out of the depths to ask me to be his partner. To dance? To play snooker? In life? I wasn’t sure. But before I knew it, my son was by my side again, rescuing Mom.

It was so lovely to be away, and to see my boys (the middle one stayed in Canada with his girlfriend) as adults, laughing with strangers in a pub, appreciating the landscapes we traveled through, talking to me about the history and the music and the experience. I had never thought that I would someday travel with my children. It just wasn’t on my list of wishes. But now it is.

And I see that being a single Mom allows us to bond in a way that I don’t think would have happened had the ol’ hubby been around.

I was in heaven, there on the coast of Ireland, where the beer is smooth, the talk is, too, and the sheep dot the slopes of land.