It rains every day in Ireland.  Without fail.  I think in the eighteen months I spent in and out of that country, I can count the number of purely sunny days on one hand.

But, Irish rain is funny.  It’s not as depressing as the rain in Virginia where I am originally from.  Rainy days in Virginia are gloomy.  Rainy days in Ireland are more challenging, than depressing.  How do you plan?  What do you wear?  When will it rain? Day, night, morning, afternoon?  Will it rain just as you plan an outdoor luncheon?

Plus the constant threat of rain makes things physically harder, especially with kids.  Sprinting in and out of the rain.  Walking faster to get to your destination, to get out of the rain.  Wrestling with a stroller in a sudden downpour.  Head down, coat up.  Nice shoes? Forget it.  Nice coat? Why bother?

And, this was my life.  Battling the elements, surviving each day.  I had a few bright spots, dulled by a continual barrage of inconvenient and frequent problems.  My emotional life mirrored Irish rain.  It was harder to know whether the mud on my face was more or less than the mud on my car.

Rain in Ireland is a fact of life.  Rain in Ireland is something you have to come to terms with, or you’ll lose your sanity.  My life as a single parent in a foreign country became an extension of Irish Rain.

Welcome to my journey of finding a suitable life-umbrella.

Nicole Drapeau Gillen, Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved