One spring, looking for the tiny green frogs that appeared as soon as the first warmth was in the air, my brothers and I splashed knee deep in the stream, making enough noise between us to frighten any creature away. If you are lucky enough to grow up the way I did, you have plenty of good things to remember. My hand crept into Finbar’s we stood immobile until it was dark, and then my brother took me home. As they landed, the sound was like my name, over and over: Sorcha, Sorcha. The final glide to the water, the silvery flashing as it parted to receive them. The rush of wings, the vibration of the air. Then they were near enough for us to see the pattern of their flight, the orderly formation descending through the cool air as the light faded. The last low traces of sun caught a white movement in the darkening sky. In the half light over the water, we saw the swans come home. I don’t remember Finbar answering, but later that day, as dusk was falling, he took me back to the lakeshore. “How can you be so sure? It could be tomorrow, or the day after.

“How can you know that?” queried Padriac. The lake lay in a circle of tree-clothed hills, sheltered as if in a great chalice. “They’re coming tonight.”īehind him, a breeze stirred the branches of oak and elm, ash and elder, and scattered a drift of leaves, gold and bronze and brown. He sat up slowly to rest his chin on raised knees. “The swans are coming,” said Finbar at last. There was a hole in the sleeve of his jacket. His hair spread out on the rock in a wild black tangle. Not sleeping his eyes reflected the open gray of the autumnal sky. As it stretched out, we both looked at Finbar, who lay on his back, full length on the warm rock. “She might fall in, mightn’t she, Finbar?”Ī long silence. I ignored him, reaching down into the mysterious depths.

After all, there were six brothers altogether, and five of them were older than he was. “You might fall in.” He was a year older than me and made the most of what little authority that gave him. “Don’t lean over so far, Sorcha,” said Padriac. I remember the way the water rippled as I trailed my fingers across the shining surface. This image is caught forever in my memory, like some fragile creature preserved in amber. Three children lay on the rocks at the water’s edge.

Sorcha daughter of the forest