I am writing this blog inspired by a blog I read last week.

A mother was recalling reading a bedtime story to her son.  She then remembered singing a lullaby to him.  She started singing, remembering all the words though evidently several years had passed since she had sung it to him. 

He did not find the words familiar.

We all have memories for different things, one child remembers the music, another the words, one the setting or circumstances, the people assembled, etc. 

My story is about my fourth daughter who remembered. 

I think some felt that Ann should have been a boy, but I always knew she was the perfect fourth child. Coming from an all-girl family, I thought having all girls was normal.  I always sang my children to sleep after reading a bedtime story, as they were so non-critical to the pitch and talent of my singing.

I often made up the words and rambled on until they slept peacefully.  I remember reading somewhere that lullabies often reflected the mother’s feelings or situation. A poor mother might be singing her woes such as in the song, “Poor little lamb what will I do wee you.” Or the rich mother’s chanting, “All the pretty little horses.”

My song for Ann was that of a mother who had three older children and knew that no matter how hard you tried, you could not guarantee your child a lifetime of happiness. Each child must strive to fulfill his or her own needs.

And so I wrote and sang: 

Oh Ann, these arms that hold you tight.

       Protect you but for infants night.

                                                And from these arms soon you must go.

                                                Into the world, where I don’t know.

And I will try to cast a spell.

To keep you safe and warm and well.

But I have no magic on which

time will not tell.

 

For Ann, these arms that hold you tight.

Cannot stop time in its flight.

And from these arms soon you will fly.

Into the worlds arms opened wide.

And since I cannot cast a spell.

I will try to teach you well.

To stand alone and find a home,

in which your heart can peacefully dwell.

Ann asked for this song over the years and soon remembered the words better than I. Then came the day of her informal outdoor wedding and she had found the home where her heart would peacefully dwell. 

At the reception there was an open mike where friends and relatives were invited to speak, congratulate the happy couple or relate how they happened to have met Ann and Paul. Then Ann invited me to sing her song with her.  She had the words in case I’d forgotten, but together we remembered. 

Today she is an OBGYN in Portland and has three children of her own.  I must remember to ask her if she sings our song to them.

By Ruth Scott

Labels: daughters, lullabies, mothers, Ruth Scott

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