Mirelle

Mirelle sat outside of her cottage listening to the wind blow gently through the reeds. She had been listening to the sounds of this bog for as long as she could remember. This sounded different. This was unsettling. She knew nothing good was coming soon. 

The bog where her cottage stood was an old hiding place. Had been for as long as there were people to hide things. It was a place where people from the outside discarded the secrets they wanted to keep hidden. Thankfully for Mirelle, she too knew how to keep secrets. 

The outside folk told stories of how Mirelle was born of the bog. They say that she was born from the secrets that were disposed of there. Mirelle didn't know exactly where she came from, didn't have any memories except those that came from within the bog. She learned to read the water and to listen to the wind. The bog taught her how to heal and how to harm, though she didn't like that part. 

*****

The sound of the old tree scraping its crooked limbs across the old metal roof woke Mirelle up. The wind had picked up and was blowing from every direction. Reeds were bending flat on the water, water was spitting across the trees, tree limbs were crashing into one another. This was the sign Mirelle was waiting for. The bog was telling her that it was time for whatever was coming. 

Mirelle dressed in layers, ready for whatever weather the bog threw up on this mystery adventure. She packed her satchel the same way. The bag itself was worn leather. Over the years, Mirelle had needed to reinforce its sagging bottom with reeds and its seams with moss. It looked as if it too had been born of the bog. There were pockets in a variety of sizes and shapes that held all manner of remedies, supplies and treasures. She made sure all of the small glass jars with a variety of herbs, oils, tinctures and salves were all full.

As she headed out Mirelle spoke to the roots, the dark water, the old trees, and the mud beneath the peat.

Roots below, branches above,

Let the mud conceal my steps, the reeds hide my shadow, 

And the black water swallow my scent.

Hide my face and keep me boundless.

Remember that I am their daughter.

I walk upon your bones, old mother.

I ask for no kindness, only passage.

Take what is owed, but leave me whole.

By root and rot, by thorn and thorn,

Let me return to the place where I was born.

*****

When Mirelle got to the stump where she always waited for Gennie, the only outsider that she trusted, she could tell something serious was going on. From this spot, she could see most of Main Street. It was packed! There were cars and people everywhere. Mirelle never knew how long she would have to wait, a few minutes or a few days. Once she waited almost a whole week before Gennie showed up. It's not like there were phone lines running to her cottage. So she waited. 

Mirelle had just finished eating a snack when Gennie showed up. The poor woman was frazzled. Mirelle made her a cup of tea using the thermos of warm bog water. They sat together and drank in silence. Mirelle was always patient when it came to Gennie because she really was her only friend. 

When Gennie was ready to speak, she set her cup down and reached for Mirelle's hands. Gennie's hands were freezing. There was a girl, a young girl, who had shown up in town. A girl with wild eyes, messy hair, no shoes. No one knew where she came from, or how she got there. She just showed up one morning. Jim from the diner tried to feed her but she refused. Nancy from the school tried to find her a bed but she kept leaving every house they brought her into. Everyone in town was trying to figure out what to do with her. There was talk of calling in officials from the city. 

Gennie had convinced the outsiders to let her try one more thing before sending this girl away. 

*****

Mirelle waited at the stump while Gennie went to get the girl. She had never thought much about children, she had never had a relationship that would even produce a child. But this child was intriguing. Why would the bog send her to town if she wasn't supposed to intervene? The bog did ask much and it did give Mirelle more than she had ever wanted. The least she could do was meet this child. 

She watched as Gennie and the young girl approached. She really was a mess. Her hair hung in uneven tangles around her face. There were twigs and leaves caught in it. Her eyes were watchful and knowing, like there was a secret dying to get out. One look at her showed that she had no formal education. That is not to say that she was uneducated. She knew which mushrooms would kill her and which roots would stave off her hunger. She knew where to find water and shelter. She knew to fear fire and storms and strangers.

There was something in this girl that Mirelle recognized. Not the kind of recognition that comes from meeting a person. It was more like a soul recognizing another soul, two spirits that had been searching for one another. 

*****

It had been almost 3 months since the young girl, who Mirelle later learned was named Sylvie, had followed her back to the cottage. Sylvie knew so much more than Mirelle did at her age, whatever that actually was. Like herself, she didn't know if she had a birthday and if she did, she didn't know when it was. She had no recollection of when she was born, who her parents were or even where she was from. She just remembered walking out of the bog and into the center of town to wait for Mirelle. 

Sylvie had lived alone since birth. She had made her home beneath the tangled roots of a tree. She talked to the birds, scolded the snakes, and whispered her secrets to the wind.She had never been in the presence of another person but when the wind told her to go, she listened. 

*****

Mirelle woke to Sylvie murmuring by her bedside. 

Root below and leaf above, Ease this hurt with earth's own love. 

Stone be still and water flow, Take the sting and soothe it slow. 

The earth shall hold, the night shall keep, 

And gentle hands shall bring you sleep.

She didn't understand what Sylvie was saying. But then their eyes met. Mirelle finally grasped the reason for Sylvie's existence. Although she didn't know how long she had been here, she knew that her time was coming to an end. She didn't like it but she knew that there were greater forces at work and she had always complied with the bog. 

*****

As the weeks turned to months and the months to years, Mirelle and Sylvie spent their days teaching one another. While their age difference was great, there was knowledge born into Sylvie that Mirelle, for all her years and power, could never hope to possess. 

Every day that Mirelle woke, was another day filled with possibilities but also a touch of dread. She was certain that Sylvie was there to take her place in the bog. Not knowing when that would come always gave her a sense of trepidation. Mirelle had learned to live each day like it was her last and since Sylvie had arrived, she had lived each day to its fullest. 

***

Neither Mirelle or Sylvie had any days to celebrate individually, but long ago, the two women had decided to commemorate the day they met. More than once, they had even convinced Gennie to come into the bog for the celebration. Gennie had long since been married, had children and become a grandmother. Her grandchildren loved the occasions when they got to visit the bog. Her visits had become less seldom since they started to tag along. 

*****

Years had passed since Mirelle last heard Sylvie mumble her quiet incantation.

Root below and leaf above, Ease this hurt with earth's own love. 

Stone be still and water flow, Take the sting and soothe it slow. 

The earth shall hold, the night shall keep, 

And gentle hands shall bring you sleep.

She felt in her bones that her time was drawing near. She saw it in the grey of her hair and the wrinkles on her skin. She felt it in her bones, especially on the days where the bog was filled with rain. 

Sylvie found Mirelle sitting by the waters edge down a long path far from the cottage. Although she knew that Sylvie was there to ease her transition and take her place as caretaker of this bog, she still wanted Sylvie to know that the burden of the bog need not extinguish the light of the child within her, for even the oldest magic required a heart that remembered how to love. She wanted Sylvie to grow the relationship with Gennie's grandchildren, with the outsiders. She wanted her to find a way for the bog and town to co-exist. 

*****

The day that Mirelle passed, the bog threw up a storm like no one had seen in quite some time. The flood spread through town and beyond. There were frogs and snakes trying to find their way back from the blacktop. Gennie's grandchildren enlisted the help of the townspeople to help Sylvie and the bog mourn.