THE WISE WOMAN
A teenage girl, no older than seventeen or eighteen, stands nervously outside a tiny cottage on the outskirts of town, shivering in the chill. She rubs her hands together, breathing into them for warmth, and glances anxiously at the shadowy street. There are no street lamps herenever have beenso the little houses are swallowed by the darkness of the coming night. In the distance, a dog barks, and tree branches creak under the wind. Shes absolutely terrified.
Go on, come inside if youve made it all this way! calls a frail old lady, peering out at Emily with shrewd eyes. Where did she come fromwants to know her fortune, does she? Or to charm a fellowold woman shakes her head with a sighexpecting a child, too… far too young, far too soon.
How did you know? the girl whispers, swallowing hard as she forces the words out.
The old woman gives a crooked smile and gestures for her to follow. I can see why you lot keep knocking on my door… young and silly, thinking nothing can touch you… ah, youth.
Grab an armful of wood, would you? My backs not what it was. And mind your boots. Emily obeys, hands full of logs, trailing behind.
Inside, the cottage is much roomier than it appeared from outside. Dried herbs hang from every wall in the hallway, and their pungent scent makes Emily cover her mouth, queasy.
Oh, dear… now then, what is it you want, love? The old woman, breathing heavily, sits herself on the bench by the fire.
A love charm, Emily confesses, eyes on the floor. Hes left me… gone off with Sophie… Her words break into sobs.
Now, now… Dont waste your tears, dear, youll ruin my good herbs. The old woman fusses, folding the dried leaves in her hands. Hell follow you about as a calf after its mother, if thats what you want. Hell be kissing the ground you walk on. Emily manages a hopeful smile. But hell turn incredibly jealousover everyone you meet. Hell stop you studying, try to keep you from any work. Youll have a new child every two years, lovely children, every one. Do you want all that?
Emilys eyes flicker with doubt, but she nods anyway.
Then, eventually, hell grow rough with you. These charmsthey plant anger in his heart. Hell hit you, more and more. Hell start drinking, and looking elsewhere. Do you know this?
Emily is silent, shrinking back towards the door, hands trembling.
There goes your happiness, just walks on by. Your one true, wouldve carried you in his arms. Nowshall we begin? The old woman rubs her hands together, ready to work.
Wait, please… what about the happiness I could have had? What is he like?
Oh, you knowtall, broad shoulders. Strong and loyal. But hes not yours now… Shall we start?
Wait… let me think…
Whats there to think about? she grumbles. Youve come all this waydecisions made, isnt it?
No, Ill go… Ill come back later… I just need to think… Emily bolts, slamming the door behind her.
The grandmotherly woman smiles to herself. Youth, foolishness, naiveté. If only someone had talked some sense into her long ago… ah, well. Someone knocks at the door again. What now…
Come inchanged your mind?
No… sorry… what about the baby? What am I meant to do? My parents will never allow it…
Wont allow it? The womans sharp gaze notes the stylish coat and new leather boots. They love you, dont they? Emily nods. Cherish you. Theyll do the same for your little onemight scold you a bit, but theyll come around.
What will my baby be like? Emily asks, hand pressed to her stomach, gaze lowered once more.
What? The bestclever, beautiful, your whole worlds delight.
And my studies? How can I go on?
Youll manage this year yet. Take some time outwhat do they call it?
Gap year, whispers Emily.
Thats it. Things will settle. Youll seenow off you go.
Thank you, you really are a wise woman! A real one! And so kind! The girl calls as she hurries away, shutting the door behind her.
Bless you, child, the old woman murmurs, making a cross in the air with her thin hand.
* * * *
Wise woman! Thats a laugh, the old dame thinks, smiling as she pours herself a cup of herbal teapeppermint, thyme, chamomile. Bittersweet, but good for what ails you. Wise woman! As if! Why else would a girl come with a broken heart? And the baby? Every mother thinks her childs the most wonderful. Shell finish her studies, marry one day, everything will work out.
She sips her tea, shaking her head in amusement. Wise woman! What nonsense! Folk invent their own stories, believe them, too… Herbsanyone can gather and brew a pot, they keep you healthy and sleep tight at night.Outside, the wind rattles the eaves, carrying with it the faint echoes of laughter from the village and the promise of another cold morning. The old woman settles deeper into her chair, letting the warmth seep into her bones as the clock ticks steady in the shadows. She gazes into the fire, flames flickering gold and blue atop logs that crackle like old secrets. Through the wavering haze, she recalls a hundred girls with frightened eyes and trembling handseach believing she stood alone at the edge of ruin.
Yet every one of them walked back down that path, shoulders a little straighter, facing the world they thought impossible. The old woman smiles, for she knows her true magic: a listening ear, honest words, a gentle push toward courage. No spell nor potion could match the strength whispered to a weary heart.
Somewhere in the distance, a baby’s first cry will soon join the night, and a mother will learnslowly, uncertainlythat love remakes the world by quiet, ordinary miracles. The wise woman closes her eyes, feeling it allthe sorrow, the longing, the hope. The world keeps turning. Young girls become mothers, babies grow, and even the deepest heartbreak gives way, by and by, to morning light.
And so, with the fire burning low, the wise woman lifts her cup in a silent toastto the boldness of the young, to the stubbornness of hope, and to every story that finds its own happy ending, whether or not a single soul calls her wise.
