For years and years, the number one thing on my bucket list was to journey to the island of green hills. I thought if my feet could just touch the ground of Ireland, my spirit would be incandescently happy. I wrote stories, day dreamed, swooned over Irish accents, jammed to Celtic rock, and gleefully threw St. Patrick's Day parties. I don't know what started this passionate obsession with a far away land, but I know the movie PS I Love You and my crush on Gerard Butler skyrocketed it to the point where it felt like my heart would burst out of my chest if I didn't get to go there as soon as possible. It was the feeling of this consistent itch that I needed to satisfy. When I became an adult, reality hit hard and suffocated the dreamer inside of me. The real world isn't an easy place for dreams to thrive in. Worries, fears, concerns, and stress ate away at my passions, desires, and dreams. I'm still struggling to hold on to the characteristics that make me who I am and who I want to be. But then all of a sudden, I found myself married and somewhere in the midst of everything, I also found myself holding onto the possibility of a dream that meant so much to me at one point. Was it really possible, for our honeymoon, we would be going to Ireland? It was and we did.