She meets my eyes and nods slowly as I force her to acknowledge her own feelings. She puts her head back down against my chest and after a few moments, I hear humming.
The melody is strangely familiar. And extremely soothing.
“What is that?”
“It’s an old lullaby that my mother used to sing to me,” Saoirse tells me. “It’s weird. I can’t remember her being around me—like, physically, you know. I don’t remember how she moved or talked. But I remember stuff she said to me. Songs she sang. The way it felt to be around her.”
Is that how I’ll feel about Sean in ten years? In twenty?
The thought of living without him is something I haven’t fully accepted yet.
I don’t know if I ever will.
“Hold on to that then,” I tell her, giving her arm a squeeze. I pause, then add, “Will you sing it to me?”
She glances up at me. “Oh, I don’t sing.”
“Try anyway,” I insist. “I won’t even look.” I make a show out of covering my eyes and peeking through the spaces between my fingers.
She smiles. “Okay then. Here goes nothing.”
She takes a deep breath and pulls her face down so that I can no longer see her.
“The pale moon was rising above the green mountain,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain
That stands in beautiful vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading
And Mary all smiling was listening to me
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
Though lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.”
When she finishes the song, I gaze down at her. “You’re a songbird.”
She laughs. “Stop it.”