I've set up camp near the fork of a river. It's been a cold journey, sore for the lack of friendship since the innkeeper's young wife.
When the weather cleared up, I made to set off again, but the blessed girl wouldn't hear of it, and had her dear husband take me along in his wagon through the watery mud til we were far out in the fields where the land was dry again. I thanked him mightily, and he shook my hand and wished me well. On his wagon, he had a rough map of the area, and he showed me the rivers I should follow, and the highlands to climb to should the rivers flood.I followed the river for many a day 'til I came to a lake, which I had to skirt around until I found the river out the other side. Then it was more of the same, trudging along the river and stopping at night for dried meat and cheese. It's nights when I miss home the most. Nights at home, after Da came in from the fields, we'd sit down for a hot stew and Mam's good bread, and the talk would be merry among us adults, and the good children would sit quiet and listen. It wasn't 'til I was fifteen that Mam and Da would allow me to join in the conversations at dinner. They let me walk to town days I had no farm work, and Da even allowed courting, but there were no lads I was interested in, though many came around the farm asking for me.
It was growing up that taught me I loved to perform. When I was a wee child, I loved to sing Mam's old highland songs, and balulow the babies, but never 'til I had an audience did I know I loved to sing for others.
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I haven't been able to write for a week, for the light fades fast and there's naught to write by in the dark. But, I've the most exciting news! A wagonload of travellers from Kirrimoor came upon me as I made my way along some tracks I had found, and they offered me a ride to Eyemouth upon the coast. I accepted glaedly, and climbed upon the back with two younger girls in heavy winter petticoats. I asked their names, and blessed me, one of them had the same name as my wee bairnie sister Mysie! We played games and tossed pebbles from the back of the wagon while the sun rose over our heads, and at night I had the pleasure of eating porridge by a warm fire. We chatted, and I learned that the mam and da's names were Mhairgaret and Kenney. Such lovely people they are! They told me their story of leaving Kirrimoor after their old granny died and they no longer had a reason to stay in such cold country. They're moving to the borders of Scotland, though Kenney thinks poorly of the English kings. Mhairgaret is sweet, and round in the belly from a baby. We gossipped as ladies do, and both agreed it would be a boy, as she has stayed thin but for the belly, and her ankles do not ache. Kenney will be happy to have a boy, as he knows nothing of frocks and dollies.
After our meal, the best thing happened. The whole family began to sing, and I knew their songs too! We sang Wild Mountain Thyme, The Wealthy Widow, and Johnny Is A'coming By. The little girls danced around us as we sang, and we all took turns being the mhaimeo as the girls circled us laughing.
I have so missed the company of others, and I relish it dearly. But I know as soon as we reach Eyemouth, I shall have to say my goodbyes and travel alone again.
-Aisling