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When I was in Ireland with my mom and sister, we climbed Croagh Patrick, a 2,510 ft mountain in Westport. We're no mountain climbers, carrying our purses and wearing jeans and knit sweaters. The climb was so steep, rocky, and sometimes dangerously slippery. At one point, as we ascended the steepest section of the mountain, where it was all loose, sharp rocks, I got into a tense argument with my mom, because I couldn't see us making it to the top. Storm clouds were rolling in and the wind was threating to knock us all off our feet and down the jagged side. We sat for a few minutes, deciding whether or not we should keep going and as we did, an elderly Irish couple came quickly down the mountain and paused at our side.
They told us they'd climbed Croagh Patrick every year and encouraged us to keep it up. They were so kind and so encouraging, I felt a little ashamed for being so angry with my mom.
So, we kept going, helping each other's footing, until we finally reached the top. At first, we were entirely enveloped in a giant cloud (we were up really high, after all), but when the clouds parted, I couldn't believe my eyes. The view of Ireland below me, with sunlight peaking through the gray clouds onto the green fields, was more amazing than anything I'd ever seen before. I didn't feel like I was on top of the world. I felt like I was having an out of body experience, that what I could see was more than what my human eyes could contain!
And I think this awe was only increased by how proud I was of my family for making it to the top. That day really changed the way I see my mom and my sister. They dazzled me all the same as the view from Croagh Patrick.
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