Free Notes from a Spinning Planet—Ireland by Melody Carlson Page A

I don’t envy whoever once lived there.
    On Friday we check out of our inn and head north toward Donegal County, driving all day through miles and miles of beautiful, lush green countryside. It’s around five o’clock when my aunt finally parks the car in a small seaport town called Malin.
    “Are we in Northern Ireland?” I ask as I climb out of the backseat and pause on the sidewalk to have a good stretch. From what I can see, this place doesn’t look much different from Galway. The weather has turned cold and windy, so I immediately reach for my thick wool sweater. It’s hard to believe it’s nearly July.
    “Not officially,” my aunt tells me as she opens the trunk. “But we’re really close. At least as the crow flies.”
    “So what made you want to come here?” I ask. “Not that it doesn’t look interesting.”
    “Malin Head is where Ryan’s ancestors lived. I thought he’d enjoy seeing it. Check out his roots, if he likes.”
    “Why did they leave?” I ask Ryan. “Was it due to the potato famine?”
    “No. That didn’t have too much of an impact on my family. Plus they left quite a bit later.” He pauses from helping my aunt unload the bags. “My grandparents immigrated to the States a few years before World War II started. My grandpa’s folks had been fishermen for generations, but he and my grandma were looking for a better life. My dad was the first one of their kids to be born in the U.S.”
    “Oh.” I sling my backpack over one arm and reach for mywheelie bag. I want to ask Ryan how his dad died but can’t think of the right way to put it just now. And maybe its none of my business anyway. “So, are your grandparents still around?”
    He closes the trunk with a thud. “Just my grandma, but she lives in a nursing home in Tacoma, and I think she might have Alzheimer’s or something. She doesn’t really know anyone anymore.”
    Another wave of compassion washes over me. Ryan seems so cut off from his family. It’s like he’s totally on his own. I can’t imagine what that would be like. And it makes me feel bad to think of some of the things I’ve said to him these past few days, not to mention the way I’ve treated him in regard to drinking his occasional Guinness. Why am I so petty?
    We check into our hotel, and since the rooms are pretty small, Sid decides we’ll each have a room of our own. “That way I can work on my article without disturbing you,” she tells me as she hands me a brass key.
    “Works for me,” I tell her. Trust me, I’m not complaining about having my own room. I mean, my aunt is nice and everything, but I’m just not used to sharing a room with anyone. A break will be nice.
    “Shall we meet in the lobby in about an hour or so?” she asks as we part ways in the hallway. “I’ve got some phone calls to make.”
    “Sounds great,” Ryan says as he unlocks the door directly across from mine. “I might take a little walk to check this place out. Maybe I’ll run into some long-lost relative.” He laughs. “Want to join me, Maddie?”
    “Sure,” I tell him as I fumble for my room key. “If you want company, that is.”
    “Can you be ready in a few minutes?” he asks.
    “No problem.”
    I quickly toss my bags onto my bed, freshen up a little, pull on my fisherman’s-knit sweater, then hurry back out to join him.
    The wind is really starting to whip as we leave the hotel. “Looks like it’s going to rain,” I say, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind.
    “You up for this?” he yells back.
    “Sure,” I say. “It’s kinda fun.”
    He points across the road. “Want to check out the bay?”
    I nod and pull the collar of my sweater up around my neck, and we hurry in that direction, straight into the wind. And even though its biting cold, it’s also invigorating. We walk for several minutes, but Ryan seems to know where he’s going. And after a while we find ourselves down by the docks, just in time to see fishermen hurrying to unload