Many years ago, when our youngest was only a baby, I was sent to Ireland in March by one of my clients to do some Instructional Design work. For ten days I stayed in Dublin and worked with engineers on their software and although I did get to see some local sights, there just wasn’t time to see much of the rest of Ireland. I saw the city, but I never got to see the poetic rolling grassy hills and little cottages that are always featured in movies.
One night I wandered down to the hotel bar for a Guinness (of course, when in Ireland…) and I started talking to the young man, Oisin, who was tending bar. St. Patrick’s day was coming up and I was starting to miss my children.
“My kids are jealous of me coming over here, because they wanted to see a real Leprechaun,” I told Oisin. I explained how I tried to keep magic and wonder alive in our house and as a result Leprechauns visited on St. Patrick’s day to raise a little mischief and leave some treats for the household.
“I told them that if I saw one of the little fellows over here, I’d report back. Sadly, though, I haven’t seen one yet.” I sighed into my pint glass.
“Well, we can fix that.” Osin, grabbed a few sheets from a bar note pad and proceeded to write the following letter to my children:
This letter has become one of our family’s most prized possessions. It’s proof that magic really does exist both in leprechauns and in a young bartender who had compassion for a mom who was missing her kids.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
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