To All the Keychains I’ve Loved Before

Notes on traveling, estrangement, and the keychains I bought for my father

Photo: Matth/Adobe Stock

In the winter of 2014, my pop and I are finally in a cab traveling to the center of Dublin, my pop’s birthplace, his home. While he looks out the window and takes inventory of what has changed, the taxi driver asks where he’s from. My pop’s accent is faint; no longer the thick brogue of his youth spent carousing in pubs and drink…