Shopping was a moment of relaxation and joy for Deirdre. She loved roaming the aisles, reading labels, picking up things she knew she would never buy, looking at them and them leaving them behind.
She enjoyed it when the shop had thematic days of other cultures, and then, she was exposed to strange products that she had not seen before.
Not much of a traveler Deirdre. She defined herself as a home bird, she enjoyed the routine of her days, just being in her own life, among the ones she loved, surrounded by familiar things.
The shopping trip was one of the very few occasions when Deirdre left her small house and ventured in the great unknown.
In her early fifties, Deirdre did not remember a time when she was any different, she never did have a very adventurous streak. Yeah, just a home bird.
Walking through the aisles her eyes singled out a strange looking broom. She went and picked it up to look at it closely. The strangest thing! The bristles of the broom were not normal bristles, they were little plastic strips that became all one, if you pretended to sweep on your hand.
What an unusual, wonderful thing! Deirdre was in awe! She looked at the price, just 7,99 euro. Well, it would be rude not to! She had heard that on tv, and she liked it so much that, sometimes, when she needed a bit of encouragement, she would say it to herself in a funny voice.
After finishing her shopping, Deirdre packed everything nicely and started to walk for home with the broom in her hand. It had a telescopic handle which, when closed was the perfect length for her to carry it comfortably.
The road from the store was not very long, but it was winding, and one had two options, take the shorter, even twistier path, or the longer, more straight forward one.
The longer way was the one Deirdre usually took, and that was what she was planning to do this time also. As she was walking though, before getting to the fork in the road, she was surprised to discover that the existence of the broom in her hand had a strange effect on her.
She felt more relaxed, not so aware of every little change of the light, playing with the broom she felt powerful.
While walking and twisting the broom in her hand, Deirdre was imagining scenarios where she was attacked and how she would conquer her attacker with her mighty broom.
She could see herself as a warrior, keeping them at a distance, even sometimes using the telescoping handle as a surprise element to overpower her attackers.
With the corner of her eye, Deirdre noticed that people were not bothered by her broom, she was just another person on the street bringing home her shopping.
Euphoric, due to this new found power, Deirdre ventured to take the shorter, zigzagging way home, her broom giving her the courage to walk the small stretch of dark wood before getting to her estate.
Deirdre found that the walk was wonderful, birds singing in the trees, beautiful flowers with green shiny leaves along the path, no sign of the attackers she had always imagined were lurking in the shadows. Just a lovely wooded trail.
Once home, Deirdre felt happy and grateful, in a way, to the broom that had enabled her to walk through the meandering wood.
From that day on, often, Deirdre would take the broom and go walking in the woods, unable to do so without the confidence the broom gave her. While walking she started to play with the broom and discovered that without learning, she was able to control the broom in a very unexpected manner. She could twist and turn it, throw and catch it, as if the broom was part of her own being, and it was it that she had been missing for so long to be able to fully develop and live.
The fact that Deirdre had gotten into the habit of going out for walks with her strange looking broom did not escape the all seeing eye of her neighbors. One of them, Riona, came one day to knock on Deirdre’s door.
‘Oh, hello!’, Deirdre knew her neighbor from greeting each other on the street, but they had never really talked.
‘Hello Deirdre! How are you?’, Riona’s voice had a nice ring to it and it had a calming effect on Deirdre’s apprehension.
After a few awkward exchanges Deirdre finally invited Riona inside, although she was painfully aware of the disarray her house was in. But, oh well, whatever, she was not expecting guests.
When they were sat at the kitchen table, with a cup of tea firmly positioned in their hands, Riona explained the reason for her visit.
‘I saw you going out with your broom … in the woods …’
Deidre went all red in the face feeling uncomfortable and, in a strange way, vulnerable.
‘Oh, no, don’t be embarrassed! I know what the broom is and what it does! I just want you to come with me, I want to show you something that will help it all make sense to you. Come!’, Riona sat up abruptly and Deirdre had no choice but to follow her. She locked her door and crossed the street towards the other woman’s house.
Although the houses were similar Deirdre was startled by the difference in their two houses. Riona’s house was sparkling clean with white walls and gleaming surfaces, no object seemed out of place and no speck of dust was floating in the air.
They crossed the hallway, through the kitchen and out into the garden to what must have been the largest shed Deirdre had ever seen. Inside, once the wooden door was closed behind them, it was as if the shed was transformed into this huge workshop with all sorts of strange tools hanging on the walls, under large industrial lights that revealed every corner of the large space.
Riona went to a table, picked up something and came back presenting it to an awe stricken Deirdre.
‘This is your shillelagh, it had been waiting for you.’
With a confused look Deirdre picked up the unusual looking stick. It had a similar length to her broom, it was black and shiny, extremely light and at the top it had a round, light colored round knot that fit perfectly in her hand when she put it on the floor and leaned on it.
‘A walking stick?’, she asked Riona not understanding exactly what was going on.
Riona laughed.
‘No, no! Your shillelagh! Pick it up and swing it, see how you feel!’
Deirdre did as she was told and then she understood, she felt powerful, she felt whole, she felt unafraid.
‘My shillelagh! Who would have thought!’
From that moment on, Deirdre learnt more and more how her ancestors used the shillelagh, and she understood that it was that power that her broom had awaken inside her. The broom went into service, but, every time Deirdre swept the floors, she would gingerly swing the broom, forever grateful for the help it had provided on her path.
As it turned out, there were a bunch of shillelagh-carrying people in her town, and Deirdre joined them on their journeys across the mountains, bogs and fields.
Her life now, as happy as before, but larger, more open, more in tune with her ancestral self.