Note: I wrote this story based off of the traditional Irish song, The Fields of Athenry. I've pasted it at the end of the story, but I did not write it.

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It is 1845.
“Máirín. The potatoes. It’s not good news.” My husband Keegan stood in the doorway.
I looked up from the dress I was sewing for Cadhla, our daughter. “What is it?”