The morning air was crisp and fresh against his skin as it washed over him and into

the
rowdy pub. He paused for a moment taking a cigarette from his breast pocket. He leaned
backward against the brick wall to the left of the door searching for a light when he felt the door
swing out in a forceful blur. Turning round he caught a blur of the lingering nightlife left within
his local. The bouncers usually kind and jolly face, now hardened and red, looked hatefully at a
large pile, now rustling on the cobbled street. Thinking of his cigarette he opened his mouth to
ask the bouncer for a light, but thought better of it, tucking it behind his right ear. He turned to
face the street, which was now empty as if nothing had happened. He wondered what had
happened in the short time hed been waiting for the sun. He felt the gaze of another boring into
his skull. As he turned round and found himself face to face with a scruffy young man who
gazed, not into his eyes like most would have done, but longingly at the cig tucked behind his
ear.
Got one to spare? the man asked timidly, with an American accent.
Lovely just what I need, he thought, but he saw no harm in sharing; lord knows hed bummed
his fair share in this very spot in the past. He reached into his breast pocket once again, pulling
out a second and handing it over.
Much appreciated, the scruffy man replied, You got a light?
Slightly annoyed that this stranger who seemed to have little regard for cleanliness and manners,
was still bothering him, he remembered that he hadnt been able to find his lighter just moments
ago.
Nah, must have left it inside. Youre welcome to goin grab it if ye like.
Scruffy just stared at him blankly. Suddenly he came to life and reached into his pocket.
Not a problem, Scruffy replied, pulling out what looked like an expensive antique American
zippo lighter, flipping the top up, lighting a spark to burn the end of the cig. Surprisingly, Scruffy
held the flame out for his new acquaintance to light his own cigarette. Leaning forward off the
wall he took the light, even now for the bummed cig.
The pair stood against the wall of the pub smoking as the morning sky began to turn pink and
wash over the townhouses across the street, illuminating the colorful doors, a symbol of Irish
rebellion in the capitol.
This damn American cant have a clue where he is, what he witnesses, he thought.
His cigarette half gone, he began to notice Scruffys presence, no longer lost in thought.
Sorry, I just realized I dont know your name, He announced, Im Whalen Burke.
He reached out his hand keeping his own cigarette between the thumb and forefinger.
Brennan Callaghan, he replied, hesitant to accept the hand outstretched and poised to shake.
Callaghan hadnt the slightest knowledge of this man, let alone his hygienic habits. Reluctantly
he offered up his own hand and the two shook.
Knowing that this had just eased some of the tension, he thought about striking a conversation
when Whalen struck first.
You Irish born and bred? he inquired.
Well he had some bollocks, starting with this question in front of Callaghans local, but this time
there was little hesitation. To be quite honest he was intrigued.
Aye, he replied laying the accent on thick, Born in County Cork, moved to Dublin Town only
after university. And yerself, ye been in Dublin awhile?
Im from a Podunk town in New England. I did an exchange program when I was in school and
studied in Belfast for a year. When I took an ancestry class I found out that both sides of my
family come from Ireland. The sun now painted the morning sky with oranges and violets as it
began to warm the air around them. Whalen paused for a moment to take it in.
Ive never seen anything so wonderful as the country side or the cliffs around the ring of
Kerry.
Aye. Their cigarettes now finished, Callaghan stepped on his and twisted his foot slightly.
When he looked up he noticed Whalens still in hand, as he stared straight out past the row of
townhouses, his eyes glazing over.
My grandmother lives somewhere in these hills, he spoke softly now, in what seemed like a
trance. The first half of an address is all I have to go on, but shes here I can feel it.
Now Callaghan noticed a tear pooling on the eye he could see from where he stood, realizing
there was much more to this man than hed first assumed. Not knowing what to say to his new
acquaintance he racked his brain for something as helpful as he could bear, coming up with a
proverb hed heard uttered from his own grandmothers lips only a year earlier. The sun rose
above the skyline.
May you always walk in sunshine.
May you never want for more.
May Irish angels rest their wings right beside your door.
Whalen looked at him oddly but nodded as if he understood the blessings purpose. The time was
now approaching the working hour, as could be told by the number of people now passing them
on the sidewalk. The pub door had been propped open so that it wouldnt slam while the packed
house dispersed for the day. All of the patrons in the pub would be back that evening for more,
Callaghan knew this for a fact.
When he looked up Whalen was gone, probably mixed among the crowd that grew thicker and
thicker with each passing moment. Callaghan wished the kind stranger luck in his journey and
thought to himself, Tada gan iarracht. Aloud he said to the place where Whalen had stood,
Nothin without effort my friend.