I was born, my mother said, the day St. Patrick came to Ireland, and that all the snakes left for fear of us both. That was the day, in the 5th century AD, that Christianity began to take root in this land. My mother was of an older breed, one who believed in faeries and goddesses. She said that Ireland was changing, becoming something else, and that's why I was born. I promised myself then, seeing how sad her deep, indigo eyes looked under tired, heavy lids, that I would never forget the old ways she taught me, and that I would make sure my people always remembered them. She taught me the ways of the seasons, and of the Eight Sabbats; she taught me about the Tuatha De Danann. Unfortunately, even though I could see how sad she was that her life was slipping into the unknown, I was just a child and over the years I forgot some of what she told me. Those stories are left to the ages.

During that time, my mother taught me a lot about farming. Our country was particularly suited for it. She also taught me the ways of battle, for she said that wicked invaders from across the sea would oneday come and try take me over. Our country was divided as well, and she said that I may need to lend my strength to some men who would like to become the High King over all of Ireland. This was my duty, to honor the blood of the Celtic people who had come over to this land long before my birth. My mother warned me of a great enemy, The Roman Empire, who she had escaped before by coming here. Her stories about him made the fighting in my own country seem tame by comparison. He seemed to be a frightening man, whose power knew now bounds. My mother said his blood ran deep in the Saxons nearby and that only a few waves separated them from me. She would come at me with her single-hand blade and usually knock me on my ass. She could see I wasn't as strong as her, and I think it disappointed her.

My mother was a strong woman, whose pride was rivaled only by her skill in battle, but I lacked the experience to understand. Day after day we trained, and day after day I failed to understand anything beyond the basics. I didn't have the fight in me; after all, I knew nothing of these invaders which seemed to upset my mother so much. I had heard of England and the Scots, and even the French, but if any representatives from those nations came around, Mother Eire dealt with them. I was too young to realize how little time my mother had left to teach me these things, and I was too stubborn to realize how little I knew. I spent most of my days lazing about on the conical hills, disregarding when my mother called to me to train. I would watch the clouds roll by as her voice echoed between the valleys, and quiver to myself, afraid what scrapes I might receive from another day of training. I would hide for minutes, or even hours, but Mother Eire always found me. She knew the island so well.

Usually when she found me, Mother Eire would spend half a day lecturing me on the dangers of invasion before making me complete my training well into the night before letting me have supper. She was a real hard ass. On this lovely, sunny day with cool, air wafting against my face, I expected to see an angry mother with one hand on her hip and the other in my face ready to tell me how shortsighted I was being. Yet that wasn't the case today; when she found me she looked worried, and then a strained smile came to her face. She sat down next to me and wrapped her long arms around me in silence, drawing my head softly into her bosom. Not expecting this kind of positive attention, my emerald drop eyes widened as I blushed. I raised my wide eyes to meet her soft, half-lidded gaze.

"You're not mad, M`athair*?" I asked. Despite myself, I found tears of joy welling up in my eyes. Displeased with myself already for exhibiting weakness in battle, I quickly went to brush away these tears and pushed myself away from my mother, hoping she wouldn't see.

"My, my, In'ion*," she said with a light trickle of laughter falling from her honeysuckle voice, "What has you so upset?"

My back still turned and the back of my hand furiously attempting to brush away what seemed like the Eas AoidhRuadh, and my hiccupping voice answered back in a shout that surprised even me . "Just leave me alone, I'm a failure! I just-" I turned then and threw myself back into her arms, "I just wish I could be strong like you, but I'm not, I'm a failure!"

As I moved my head back and forth in her breast, screaming and crying, my mother looked more surprised at me than I ever think I saw. After a moment of my clinging onto her maiden dress, she smiled and unclasped my chubby, tiny fingers with her own slender appendages and rolled me into a hug in her lap, completely surrounded by her warmth. My crying faded into struggled hiccups and snot as I tried to hold her closer. She placed my head against her cheek and began to speak in the way that she did when she had something important to say. "You are strong in a different way, my daughter. You lack the experience with foreigners for me to expect too much from you, and one day you will find a great warrior to help you who will rival all of Europe. I am confident that in your hands Ireland will become a great and unified nation."

I begin to cry harder at this and attempted to push away from Mother again, but she only laughed and held me closer. "You're m-mean!" I strangled out, "Saying that is just like saying I'm not strong!"

"Well, you're not very strong, young daughter," she said and ignored the wail of noise I let out in protest, "But-" she said this with raised voice and I quieted, meeting her loving gaze with tear-filled eyes, "You will be." With this, she rested my head against her once more and stood up, walking towards the coastline. When we got there, she sat me next to her and we watched the ocean in silence.

After several minutes, and when I had calmed down for the most part, I was feeling rather grumpy and upset that my mother would dare admit I lacked something in battle. So rather than appreciate the sound advice I had received or enjoy the calming seas, I began to fidget in my seat and crossed my arms. "This is stupid," I grumbled, "Why are we staring at the ocean?"

My mother didn't answer, but I could see her eyes drop. Not moments before they had so much light and life within them, and with my question it was if the dead had taken over my mother's body. Suddenly, I wasn't in the mood to fight with her, as I could see she knew something dire and was trying to protect me from it. So instead I placed a small, chubby hand on hers and stared into the ocean with her, until the sun set into a bed of pinks and orange. Only once the moon had risen did my mother finally sigh a breath of weariness and stand. Turning to me, the light returned again to her eyes, she smiled brightly and extended her hand. "Let's go home, In'ion."

For a moment I thought maybe I had grown up a little bit, but I stood there in awe for a moment, just staring at my mother. She was so big and strong and wise, and in that moment I thought my mother would protect me forever. I smiled and closed my eyes in happiness as I took her hand in my mind. "Okay, mother!" I said with a laugh in my voice, "Let's go home!"

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M'athair and In'ion are Gaelic for Mother and Daughter,
respectively. The comma actually goes above the "a" and "i" and not before it,
but I don't know how to do that.

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Eas Aoidh Ruadh is
a large waterfall in county Donegal.