Síle's Winter

The winter of 1985 was as harsh as any Síle could remember, and her family's small cottage was always cold and damp, nestled as it was between a hill and the frozen sea.

Síle's father, a fisherman, spent most of his time out on the stormy waters, and her mother was too sickly to light the fire often. Síle was the only one who remained constantly in the house, taking care of her two younger sisters and her frail mother.

One bitterly cold January day, Síle was at the well when she saw a young boy sitting on the edge, his feet dangling in the water. He was shivering and his clothes were soaking wet.

"What are you doing here, a stóirín?" Síle asked.

"I've lost my way," the boy said. "I'm from the village up the coast, but I got turned around in the snow."

Síle felt a surge of pity for the boy. She knew how easy it was to get lost in the blinding winter storms.

"Come with me," she said. "You can stay at our cottage until the storm passes."

The boy, whose name was Conor, followed Síle back to her cottage, where she gave him some warm soup and a dry set of clothes. As he sat by the fire, Conor told Síle stories of his life on the other side of the island.

The next day, the snow continued to fall, and the wind howled outside. Conor was unable to leave, so Síle spent the next few days taking care of him. She told him stories of her own life, and they played games and laughed together. As the storm raged on, Síle realized that she had grown fond of the young boy.

When the storm finally passed, Conor was reluctant to leave. He had enjoyed Síle's company, and he felt safe in her presence. Síle, too, was sad to see him go, but she knew that he had to return to his family.

As Conor walked away from the cottage, Síle stood at the doorway, watching him. She knew that she would never forget the winter of 1985, and the young boy who had brought a little bit of warmth into her cold and isolated life.