My mother did not sing to me very often, that I recall. What I do remember was the one lovely lullabye in her childhood tongue, sung, certainly wobbly with emotion, and a bit off-key. I tend to sing it a bit the same way; my register doesn't reach as high as my throat used to be able to reach. And each slightly sharp-ish note makes me a little maudlin, and in-love.
I love the feeling of music coming from ME. Resonating through my chest, my daughters skull and into the very fiber of her being. Shakey notes and all. It reminds me of singing lullabyes, all manner of nursery rhymes and made up verses to Old MacDonald to Bo, in an effort to coax him to sleep.
This invariably brings more tears. But I am so happy. Because now, he pretty much goes to sleep and stays asleep until morning. And he's just sleeping, and not in THE BIG SLEEP.
In fact, he is so stable, that instead of burning my adrenals out wondering if my kid will still be alive in the morning, I sleep, too! And then I wake up stupid early. Because I actually can convince myself to do so. And I work my tail off at work. And one day a week, I work for free at the hospital for half a day. And Thursdays, as long and grueling as they are, can only in the smallest way, show the nurses and doctors who saved Bo's life that their ho-hum long shift jobs are so much more than that to me. That they are magical beings whose every touch were the difference, literally between life and death.
And I wonder if they know that there was another person whose life they saved during those long summer days in 2007? That this Lazarus had laid down for so many years that it seemed permanent. But one day, after a long time, the faintest flutter became, after many more days and weeks, an eruption of life being lived.
And today, I came home to help Bo with homework. I took the hair ties off of a stuffed caterpillar's antenae. I listened patiently to my favorite scientist delight in the surprise of his own brilliance. I sang about rainbows to my daughter and I read about germs to my son. And after the house grew silent in its contentment, I dutifully popped open my laptop to finish some work that the VP wanted.
It has been a very long week. Full of hard work, discipline, tedious chores, bad manners, tax preparations (which are not complete, still!) and laundry. But it is an exhaustion that I am so grateful for.
