Seán Carlson
Bus to Ballybunion
The five o’clock bus is nearly full by the time it leaves Tralee eight minutes after the hour. The transport lurches from the station, shifting between low gears in afternoon traffic.
“This is ridiculous,” an older man says.
“It is,” a younger woman affirms across the aisle.
“Every day now,” one of them offers.
The first temporary-protection permit holders arrived in Ballybunion six months after the Irish Times declared “Scores killed as Russia invades Ukraine from land, sea, and air.” A local crowd almost the same in size gathered on the beach in welcome beneath a cliff-top castle wall.
At first, Ukrainian licence plates adorned some cars parked outside seasonal businesses. A year later, many new residents rely instead on the hour-long bus to reach the main county town.
Stopping at the technological university, the driver leaves the door locked, tallies the seats.
“Who are the lucky three?” he asks the six students waiting for the day’s last trip.
As the bus departs, another passenger rushes down the aisle. His voice breaks: four seats remain unused. Others grasp his tension if not the language. The driver stays silent.
There are few vehicles on the road now, a clear route forward, only a roundabout ahead.
“You can still do right,” the passenger begs.
And for a breath, the possibility holds.
Seán Carlson is working on his first book, a family memoir of migration. His essays and poetry have been published in the Boston Globe, the Honest Ulsterman, the Irish Independent‘s New Irish Writing series, the Irish Times, Ragaire, and elsewhere. Read Seán’s memorial poem, “The Sojourn,” in Trasna and visit seancarlson.com.