"It'll Be Easier in the Morning" (Hothouse Flowers)

I was very blessed to live in Galway for two years. And if I ever got a bit down and called a friend to complain, I usually got this advice: “I don’t want to hear it.” Which was fair enough, because it really was a charmed life. I spent most of my time studying, but I also went to the Galway Market on Saturdays, stopped for coffee in Café du Journal, danced at the GPO on Sunday nights, and spent many happy evenings in The Front Door (or Club Áras na nGael, Neachtain’s, Monroe’s, Murphy’s, Taylor’s, or the College Bar).

It was relatively easy to adjust to life in Ireland. For example, English is the primary language, and all the food is identifiable. Such luxuries shouldn’t be taken for granted when one is venturing far from home. Even so, there were things that could be frustrating.

For example, you might go to the bursar’s office to pay your tuition bill, only to be told that the woman who handles those particular bills is out for lunch. “Well, can I leave it for her?” you might ask. This request might be ignored, and the woman behind the counter might instead suggest that you simply stop by later. However, when you stop by later, the office might be closed for the weekend (even though it’s noon on a Thursday). Then, when you return the following week, you might be informed that the (increasingly elusive) woman in question is on vacation for the next two weeks. “But my tuition is due tomorrow,” you might respond. “What should I do?” To which the woman behind the counter might sigh dramatically and tell you that she’ll take it after all. You’ll watch her drop your check on a stack of papers, and then you’ll spend the next month or so fretting that it will be “lost” and you’ll have to pay the bill again, even though the money has mysteriously disappeared from your account.

On days like those, I could seek out my friend Michael (dubbed “Vegas” by his Galway friends, in honor of his hometown). We would drink black coffee, watch The Simpsons, and pepper our conversation with all the Americanisms we could think of. As in, “Dude, that Simpsons episode was awesome.” — “Totally, dude.”

If The Simpsons wasn’t on, or if there was no one to commiserate with, the other thing I would often do is to go for a walk. My first year in Galway, I would leave my apartment, walk about two minutes to the bank of the River Corrib, and then head upriver toward Menlo Castle. The crisp air would do wonders for clearing my head, and looking over at the castle helped me remember what a truly amazing experience it was to be living in Ireland.

During my second year in Galway, my apartment was just around the corner from Bridge Street, where I often stood and let the rushing river take any anger or loneliness or melancholy out to sea.

Now that I’m back in the States, I don’t have one particular place where I can sort things out in my mind. But all these years — whether I’m looking out over the water or sitting at my kitchen table at home — one thing has remained constant. When life starts to feel overwhelming, the song “It’ll Be Easier in the Morning” often seems to magically pop into my head.

Of course, not all problems and worries go away overnight. But I’ve found that, most of the time, things really are easier in the morning. This gorgeous song gives me such a lovely way to remember that.

Enjoy.