Jameson & Ginger
In May 2017, I gave myself a gift I had been quietly dreaming about for years—a journey to Ireland to walk the same soil my ancestors once called home. Armed with my very first company bonus and a heart full of curiosity, I booked an eight-day adventure. I would be traveling alone—truly alone for the first time.  It felt bold. Slightly reckless. Completely necessary.
The morning I left for the airport, my two-year-old granddaughter wrapped her tiny arms around me and said, “Don’t be scared, Grandma—you’ll make friends.”  Her words followed me all the way across the Atlantic.
When I arrived in Dublin, the excitement I’d felt for months suddenly gave way to nerves. That first evening, I had a reservation at the Jameson Distillery Bow St. for a tour and tasting—my official kickoff to this long-awaited adventure. Yet there I was, sitting on the edge of my hotel bed, remote in hand, watching television I couldn’t even focus on. The city hummed outside my window. Laughter drifted up from the street below. And I sat there, paralyzed by the simple act of walking out the door.
It’s funny how the dreams we hold closest can sometimes be the scariest to step into.
After an hour of wrestling with myself, I stood up and faced the mirror. My reflection looked both thrilled and terrified. I took a deep breath and said out loud, “You’ve wanted to do this your entire life, Laura. Now put on your big-girl panties and go enjoy the incredible adventure waiting for you.”
That was the moment everything shifted.
I got dressed with new determination, left my room, and hailed a cab. As we drove through the lively streets of Dublin, I watched the city blur past—cobblestone lanes, glowing pub windows, music spilling onto sidewalks. By the time I stepped out at the distillery, my fear had softened into something else: possibility.
Walking through those doors was more than just the start of a tour. It was the first step into independence, into courage, into a deeper understanding of where I came from. As I learned about Irish whiskey, history, and resilience, I couldn’t help but think about my ancestors—their bravery in leaving this island, their uncertainty as they crossed an ocean toward America, and the strength it must have taken to build a new life.
What began as a solo trip quickly became something far greater: a reminder that courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s moving forward despite it. My granddaughter was right. I did make friends. But more importantly, I rediscovered a braver version of myself.
And it all began with one small, trembling step out of a hotel room in Dublin.