Aoife was a quiet and caring person; she glided through every day like a swan
gliding through calm waters. That’s what everyone thought. All she wanted was to
belong, fit in and be appreciated. She had lost her husband Conal too young. Only
thirty-four and six months married. Her life then, was taken over by others, her
purpose no longer clear.

She cared for her aging parents while her siblings lived their lives. They would swan
in and out on occasions, talking about their busy lives, new purchases, meetings
with friends and holidays. Her head, busy with others problems, trapped by their
blindness. Her only break, a visit to the canal every day while her parents took their
afternoon nap.

Nobody knew she had dark thoughts. She fought day by day to suppress them. She
was needed by her parents. Her daily visits to the canal calmed her. Aoife would
stand and gaze into the water and see his dark eyes reflect back. Imagining she
could see his face, his smile, feel his calmness. In the ripples of the water, she saw
him. In the soft breeze that blew beneath the old canal bridge, she felt his touch.
Of late, a lone swan glided by her gracefully on the water only to turn and return
when it reached the end of the stone wall supporting the bridge, to glide by her
again. She was fascinated by its majestic beauty, its feathers shimmering like pearls.
She wondered if it was a cob or a pen, just as she wondered if it could pass from
our world into the otherworld like the druids believed. What was the otherworld?
Was that where her Conal might be?

The swan appeared every day she visited the canal. She wondered if it, too, was
alone. No partner. Just like her. She pondered, was it paddling furiously beneath
the surface just to stay afloat …like she was? She brought it chopped cabbage,
spinach, frozen peas and lettuce, varying its treats every day. Sounds of nature
surrounded Aoife as she inhaled the mulchy mustiness of autumn. The swan,
always silent.

With time her father passed. Heartbroken, her mother followed soon after.
Turmoil churned within her as her siblings waited in the wings to swoop in and
pick the carcasses for all they could get. With funerals planned, her parents laid to
rest and wills read, all in a flurry her siblings played the grieving children with skill.
She glided along gracefully, heavy-bodied with grief, forcing a smile, yet feeling an
unknown future breathing down her neck. Like the swan she emulated, she pushed
through, determined to stay afloat amidst all the chaos that surrounded her like a
cocoon.

In quiet moments she remembered the swan and once all her parents’ business was
put to bed, she climbed into her car to visit her happy place – the canal. As she
drove down the canal bank, she slowed to go around a deep pothole and then
accelerated thinking of the swan. The water glistened strangely that day.

A rescue crew pulled her car out of the water the following morning. Her body was
gently lifted from the car and laid on the ground, a lifeless vessel now. Two white
swans sat motionless on the water, watching silently. The swans curved their necks
together into the shape of a heart. They turned and glided away.

The veil between worlds had grown thin, the druids’ beliefs had come to life. The
swans moved in harmony, no longer paddling furiously beneath the surface. At
peace now. Together again.