Leprechauns Are Real

I was in third grade. I was having a great debate amongst friends. "Leprechauns are real!" I shouted. My grandma told me so. She was a sweet little lady from Ireland. Ginger hair and I just knew she had a house full of gold treasure!

She had shamrocks hung up all over the place. Irish blessings framed on many walls. You could not tell me otherwise. Eileen was a leprechaun. After all, she is the one who told me. So like any other child, my brother and I searched high and low. We searched the attic, the air vents, the back yard shed, and even behind large picture frames.

No gold. We knew it was in this house, but didn't know where. On Easter we'd find plastic eggs with cash in them. On birthdays she would bake a cake and have money in a bag inside the birthday person's slice. Every card for holidays, a little green fell out. But our curiosity still wondered where the gold was.

Eileen was the cookie lady. She always made sure we had cookies even if Mom and Dad said no. She walked the neighborhood every day with her long handmade walking stick. Everyone anticipated her polite wave and her black lab walking right by her side.

I was too young to realize that a woman like her would never sit down. She was up with the sun drinking her tea. And making breakfast for everyone. She never took a seat. She always catered to everyone else.

I would peek in her bathroom where everything she owned was neat and perfect. Her kitchen aroma is what I considered a smell every home should have. Everything was always tidy with the daintiest decor. Helping her cook was an honor. She didn't need measurements, but she brought the recipes out just to show us she knew them by heart.

About ten years passed by and I went for a visit. We sat together reminiscing old stories. We looked through photos. Spent time near her award winning garden. And one story came up instantly. I asked her if she remembered telling us grandchildren that she was a leprechaun. She chuckled yes. I told her how we went hunting many times to find her pot of gold. And she was on the floor in tears laughing.

The next day she came to me and grabbed my hand and said, "I'm sorry I had you looking for real treasure all these years." In my hand she left a hundred dollar bill. I refused it several times, but she insisted I take it for my troubles.

More years went by and her memory started to fade away. She became like a small child. And I chose to have my last memories with her to be ones where she knew me. A woman who was an angel in my eyes had taught me so many things and touched so many lives was the gold I was searching for all along. It was tangible and to spend that gold was to be a light for everyone, and share wealth when you have it, and keeping that pot of gold at the end of a rainbow signified that after a storm beauty and reward follows.

Grandma Eileen was my pot of gold. Every kiss, every hug, was pure sunshine. And I declare that every folk tale about leprechauns are indeed true. Because I knew one myself and I only hope I have enough gold to spread around.

Thank you for everything, Eileen Landrum.

Rest in Paradise April 19, 1924 - December 11, 2017

My lucky charm.