be born. Perhaps you liked that island. It’s a magical place.” He smiled at her. “Anyway, they hustled your mama to the home of her travel guide and there you were born. You came out rather quickly, mija.” Again, he smiled at her.
“What was the sign? Besides being born on an island somewhere.”
“The story is quite remarkable. The guide lived in a modest home cut into the side of a hill in the jungle.” He chuckled. “I guess it was quite a sight to see your mother brushing aside the assistance of the men as she climbed the trail to the house, stopping to lean against a tree when a contraction came – she was very stubborn, she was.
The windows of this home were all flung open wide to let a breeze flow through. It was quite hot and your mother insisted that ever y window be open. Also, there was a hole in the roof above your mother. The guide was apparently in the midst of installing a sky window to look out at the stars at night. Your mother said it calmed her to look up and see trees and sky between contractions.”
“I can relate. The trees and the sky calm me down, too.”
“You were always like your mother, mija. Your sisters, they took after their father and his stern Germanic blood.” He paused to look at her, smiling warmly. “The lemurs let out quite a keening as you were being born. They issue a shrieking, howling kind of caterwaul. Did you know that they named lemurs after the Roman name ‘lemure’?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“It means ghost and spirits, and it’s easy to see why when you hear them. Their cries are rather eerie. In the night, it can make your hair stand on end. The Malagasy hold a lot of superstitions about the lemurs. They believe if you kill one of them, you will suffer the same fate.”
Marissa shuddered. “Oh! That’s awful!”
“Yes. I’ve heard tales of it happening. Anyway, at the time of your crowning, a kestrel flew into the room through the sky window. The falcon got disoriented for a moment and zipped around the room, seeking escape. Picture your tiny head being revealed, the midwife assisting, your father squeezing your mother’s hand, your mother bearing down and no doubt moaning with that beautiful voice of hers, and then a bird of prey flies in from overhead.” He sliced his hand through the air.
A slight smile curved on her lips. “I can’t imagine. So why did they think the bird was a sign of something amazing?”
“To add to the chaos, someone shouted for assistance to get the bird out and the travel guide ran into the room. He was an ornithologist. Apparently, his face went completely white when he saw the bird.”
“Why?”
“Because, mija, it was an extinct species. It was apparently a Réunion Kestrel. It has been extinct since the 1700s.”
“Come on! With all the chaos in the room, the guy could have made that up.”
“He insists it was that bird, mija. But here’s the truly remarkable part. The midwife was at the ready, waiting for you to come out. There’s shouting and chaos in the room. The bird flapped against the ceiling. It flew up and down along the wall. Then it did an amazing thing – it flew right over your mother’s legs and looked at her and then at you. The kestrel hovered in midflight, like it was scoping out its prey, ready to drop down and snatch you in its talons. Everyone stopped and looked up at the bird. It remained like this for, oh, maybe a minute, watching your mother and your tiny head emerging. Then it just flew out the window, as if it knew where to go all along.” He made his hand swoop and soar.
Marissa shook her head. “That’s an outlandish tale. Why didn’t I ever hear this story? All I was ever told was that I was born on an island near Africa.”
“I think your parents wanted to wait. They were going to present you with the story, as well as an amulet on your 16 th birthday. They never made it that far.”
“No. They died when I was only 15.”
“Yes, they felt like
“What was the sign? Besides being born on an island somewhere.”
“The story is quite remarkable. The guide lived in a modest home cut into the side of a hill in the jungle.” He chuckled. “I guess it was quite a sight to see your mother brushing aside the assistance of the men as she climbed the trail to the house, stopping to lean against a tree when a contraction came – she was very stubborn, she was.
The windows of this home were all flung open wide to let a breeze flow through. It was quite hot and your mother insisted that ever y window be open. Also, there was a hole in the roof above your mother. The guide was apparently in the midst of installing a sky window to look out at the stars at night. Your mother said it calmed her to look up and see trees and sky between contractions.”
“I can relate. The trees and the sky calm me down, too.”
“You were always like your mother, mija. Your sisters, they took after their father and his stern Germanic blood.” He paused to look at her, smiling warmly. “The lemurs let out quite a keening as you were being born. They issue a shrieking, howling kind of caterwaul. Did you know that they named lemurs after the Roman name ‘lemure’?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“It means ghost and spirits, and it’s easy to see why when you hear them. Their cries are rather eerie. In the night, it can make your hair stand on end. The Malagasy hold a lot of superstitions about the lemurs. They believe if you kill one of them, you will suffer the same fate.”
Marissa shuddered. “Oh! That’s awful!”
“Yes. I’ve heard tales of it happening. Anyway, at the time of your crowning, a kestrel flew into the room through the sky window. The falcon got disoriented for a moment and zipped around the room, seeking escape. Picture your tiny head being revealed, the midwife assisting, your father squeezing your mother’s hand, your mother bearing down and no doubt moaning with that beautiful voice of hers, and then a bird of prey flies in from overhead.” He sliced his hand through the air.
A slight smile curved on her lips. “I can’t imagine. So why did they think the bird was a sign of something amazing?”
“To add to the chaos, someone shouted for assistance to get the bird out and the travel guide ran into the room. He was an ornithologist. Apparently, his face went completely white when he saw the bird.”
“Why?”
“Because, mija, it was an extinct species. It was apparently a Réunion Kestrel. It has been extinct since the 1700s.”
“Come on! With all the chaos in the room, the guy could have made that up.”
“He insists it was that bird, mija. But here’s the truly remarkable part. The midwife was at the ready, waiting for you to come out. There’s shouting and chaos in the room. The bird flapped against the ceiling. It flew up and down along the wall. Then it did an amazing thing – it flew right over your mother’s legs and looked at her and then at you. The kestrel hovered in midflight, like it was scoping out its prey, ready to drop down and snatch you in its talons. Everyone stopped and looked up at the bird. It remained like this for, oh, maybe a minute, watching your mother and your tiny head emerging. Then it just flew out the window, as if it knew where to go all along.” He made his hand swoop and soar.
Marissa shook her head. “That’s an outlandish tale. Why didn’t I ever hear this story? All I was ever told was that I was born on an island near Africa.”
“I think your parents wanted to wait. They were going to present you with the story, as well as an amulet on your 16 th birthday. They never made it that far.”
“No. They died when I was only 15.”
“Yes, they felt like
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