her window to the ocean and, out of nowhere, said, “Looks like a storm is brewin’. You better get back on the Muirín and head home.”
“Nanny , there is not a cloud in the sky,” Eileen challenged, after looking out the same window and not seeing anything.
“I wouldn’t mess with your Nanny , Eileen. She has never been wrong about the weather.”
Everyone helped wash and put away the dishes, and the Murphys were soon saying their goodbyes and walking out the door of Tír na nÓg . On their way out Nanny grabbed Meg while the family continued without them. Before she could say a word, Meg told her “I promise I will guard our compendium forever, Nanny.”
“I know ya will, dear. But remember, it’s just a tool. What you have inside of you is a greater treasure than that old piece of metal.”
Meg turned to leave and paused her glance at the horizon on the Atlantic in front of her. For a second, she thought she saw dark clouds looming. But just as fast as she saw them, they were gone, replaced by the clear, blue sky meeting the rolling ocean waves. She looked back at her grandmother, who again gave her the same strange smile she did when they first walked into the cottage. Nanny gave her a hug and said, “Happy birthday, Margaret Grace ,” emphasizing her middle name in a weird way. Meg walked to the sailboat wondering what had just happened.
8
Happy Birthday
It was a somber sail. Everyone was withdrawn and in their own world. Meg let her mom take the helm for the ride back. She needed it. Meg had seated herself up near the bow, staring at the compendium and processing everything that had happened: the crash, banshees, unknown great grandparents, and great uncles lost at sea—it was a lot for an eleven-year-old girl to take in. Meg knew her mother was having a hard time with it all, too, because she noticed the telltales luffing much more than they normally would with Shay captaining.
They sailed up the Atlantic side of Fishers Island . The wind had died down a bit, enough to make the sailing a little more relaxing, even if not enough to slow them down. By the time they rounded the eastern tip of the island and were heading back towards Connecticut, the sea had done its job and everyone was a little more at ease. Sean made up a song and was singing from his seat. At that everyone smiled and started talking again.
“I loved the old stories from Ireland growing up but I never thought I would live one… a banshee… The vision of that woman is burned into my brain right now… I have never heard about the crash before,” Mark said.
“ Banshee is Irish for fairy woman . Bean, pronounced ban , meaning woman , and sídh , pronounced she , meaning fairy . They are said to be caretakers of the noble Gaelic race in general, or anyone with a Mac or an O before their name.
‘ By Mac and O
You’ll always know,
True Irishmen they say.
But if they lack
The O and Mac,
No Irishmen are they.’
It’s a silly old rhyme , but Nanny used to say it when she would tell me stories of the banshee.”
“But Nanny is a Sullivan ,” Eileen said.
“Her maiden name is O’Flaherty, Eileen.”
“Oh. So banshees guard families?” Meg asked.
“Yes, the old Irish families , and in the folk tales banshees also guarded the fairy gifts given to those families. Some families had the gift of music; some had the gift of art.”
“What about the gift of the sea and navigation ?” interrupted Meg.
“I’m not so sure about that . Navigation is more of a learned skill than a gift. But we do have a love of the sea don’t we?” She winked at Meg. “A banshee wails a sad and sweet cry called a keen , which is copied by women all over Ireland at funerals and wakes. Ooohhhhh, woooohhhh,” Shay did her best banshee keen.
“I’m scared , Mom,” admitted Meg. “I can’t get the vision of her out of my head either, or that wail.”
“Banshees aren’t scary things,” she smiled and tilted her head to
“Nanny , there is not a cloud in the sky,” Eileen challenged, after looking out the same window and not seeing anything.
“I wouldn’t mess with your Nanny , Eileen. She has never been wrong about the weather.”
Everyone helped wash and put away the dishes, and the Murphys were soon saying their goodbyes and walking out the door of Tír na nÓg . On their way out Nanny grabbed Meg while the family continued without them. Before she could say a word, Meg told her “I promise I will guard our compendium forever, Nanny.”
“I know ya will, dear. But remember, it’s just a tool. What you have inside of you is a greater treasure than that old piece of metal.”
Meg turned to leave and paused her glance at the horizon on the Atlantic in front of her. For a second, she thought she saw dark clouds looming. But just as fast as she saw them, they were gone, replaced by the clear, blue sky meeting the rolling ocean waves. She looked back at her grandmother, who again gave her the same strange smile she did when they first walked into the cottage. Nanny gave her a hug and said, “Happy birthday, Margaret Grace ,” emphasizing her middle name in a weird way. Meg walked to the sailboat wondering what had just happened.
8
Happy Birthday
It was a somber sail. Everyone was withdrawn and in their own world. Meg let her mom take the helm for the ride back. She needed it. Meg had seated herself up near the bow, staring at the compendium and processing everything that had happened: the crash, banshees, unknown great grandparents, and great uncles lost at sea—it was a lot for an eleven-year-old girl to take in. Meg knew her mother was having a hard time with it all, too, because she noticed the telltales luffing much more than they normally would with Shay captaining.
They sailed up the Atlantic side of Fishers Island . The wind had died down a bit, enough to make the sailing a little more relaxing, even if not enough to slow them down. By the time they rounded the eastern tip of the island and were heading back towards Connecticut, the sea had done its job and everyone was a little more at ease. Sean made up a song and was singing from his seat. At that everyone smiled and started talking again.
“I loved the old stories from Ireland growing up but I never thought I would live one… a banshee… The vision of that woman is burned into my brain right now… I have never heard about the crash before,” Mark said.
“ Banshee is Irish for fairy woman . Bean, pronounced ban , meaning woman , and sídh , pronounced she , meaning fairy . They are said to be caretakers of the noble Gaelic race in general, or anyone with a Mac or an O before their name.
‘ By Mac and O
You’ll always know,
True Irishmen they say.
But if they lack
The O and Mac,
No Irishmen are they.’
It’s a silly old rhyme , but Nanny used to say it when she would tell me stories of the banshee.”
“But Nanny is a Sullivan ,” Eileen said.
“Her maiden name is O’Flaherty, Eileen.”
“Oh. So banshees guard families?” Meg asked.
“Yes, the old Irish families , and in the folk tales banshees also guarded the fairy gifts given to those families. Some families had the gift of music; some had the gift of art.”
“What about the gift of the sea and navigation ?” interrupted Meg.
“I’m not so sure about that . Navigation is more of a learned skill than a gift. But we do have a love of the sea don’t we?” She winked at Meg. “A banshee wails a sad and sweet cry called a keen , which is copied by women all over Ireland at funerals and wakes. Ooohhhhh, woooohhhh,” Shay did her best banshee keen.
“I’m scared , Mom,” admitted Meg. “I can’t get the vision of her out of my head either, or that wail.”
“Banshees aren’t scary things,” she smiled and tilted her head to
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