For writer's Cramp St. Patrick's Day
|It was the worst day, ever. I had been bullied at school that long ago St. Patrick's Day for my pointy ears, but my grandmother took me for a walk in the glade and, after I'd stopped crying, said, "You have elfin ears to go with your moss-green eyes. Happens with those of fae descent."|
"Fae?" I didn't know what that meant. I was only almost seven, after all.
"You won't truly realize it until you are older, child, but you are magical. The true Irish have many mystical abilities. Who knows what yours may be!"
"Will I grow wings?" I asked. "I'd love some pretty iridescent shamrock green wings."
"In all honesty? Probably not. Maybe some pale teal-green ones. More likely? You will have special intuitions or healing powers."
"Oh," I said, disappointed. " That doesn't sound like much fun."
"Powers aren't supposed to be fun. They are a responsibility."
"Like chores?" This wasn't sounding worth getting picked on at all.
"Sort of," my grandmother smiled. "And don't get any ideas about using them to pay back the ones who tease you now. You can only use whatever you get for good."
My grandmother and I wandered under the tall pines, our feet crunching old pine needles. I sighed.
"What be you a sighing about, my lady? Tis a beautiful day!" Standing in front of me was a small, very odd-looking man smoking a long brown pipe with a curled stem. I looked over to where my grandmother had been standing but she was no longer there! I wasn't sure what to do next, but running away seemed like a very good idea.
"You needn't be afraid o' the likes of me. Don't you know a leprechaun when you see one, child of the fae?"
"You are really a leprechaun? Where's your pot of gold?" I asked suspiciously.
"At the end o' the rainbow, o' course. But as it isn't raining, you can't see it. I do have a secret to tell you though."
"You do? What?"
"Wait. How old are you?"
"I'll be seven in May."
"Well, tis a bit early, but it will be okay. Those girls who've been teasing you? If you act like you don't care a wit, then they will stop. It is only fun for them because when they make you cry, they think they have power over you. In reality? They are pea-grean with jealousy! They will never have any extra to them as you do. And, they only have boring ordinary ears. Their ears will never hear all the magical things yours will. AND, I guarantee they will never, ever hear a leprechaun speak!"
I smiled. Leprechauns were pretty cool! "So, I just smile and walk away?"
"Exactly. Oh! But you can't ever be tempted to tell them your secrets."
"I won't," I promised. "I can tell my grandmother, though, right?"
"Lady Annable of the Kerrick Clan? Oh, but o' course. She's one o' our Queens, you know."
She was? Wow. No, I hadn't!
"Look!" he said, pointing at a bright spot of sunlight near a fallen log. I did and saw a clump of shamrocks. A whole bunch of four-leafed clovers. I'd never even found one before, let alone a whole bouquet's worth. Dainty white flowers peeked from between the leaves. "When you are troubled, come to this spot and you always find these lucky smiles here. They will always make you feel a little bit better."
"Even in the winter?" I gasped.
"You might need to look a little deeper, but they will always be here. Now, I've got to dash, busy day for me. I'll see you again, one of these days. Me name be Seanassy."
I blinked and he was gone. I looked quickly to where I'd seen the shamrocks and they were still there, nodding in the breeze.
"Oh, I love shamrocks," my grandmother exclaimed as she wandered up behind me. "Pretty much always a way to make one smile. Feeling better now?"
I was grinning as I replied. Turned out to be a pretty good day after all!