44
The first thing Elijah does when we step outside the terminal at the Dublin airport is heave a giant sigh.
The next thing he does is take the sunglasses he’d pulled out of his satchel and put them back inside his satchel. And then he hunts for a cardigan he’d shoved in there during the flight instead. I look up at the gray sky and then around at all the slick, gray concrete. A wind blows chilly and wet in front of the terminal. It’s hard to think of a place more different than the sunny, herb-scented valley where we’ve spent the last week.
“Shall we?” Elijah sighs, and we step out into the gray drizzle and start rolling our way to the rental car place.
Thirty minutes later, and we are on the road. Traveling on a monastery’s dime means that funds are hugely limited, and we’re ta
