From: jan <unicorn(a)sun-spot.com>
Comfort Things (from the "Sunday Afternoon Rocking" series)
"Hush little baby, don't say a word
" Such began the lullaby I sung to my
three children, now all grown up and off on lives of their own. I never
dreamed it meant so much until my daughter, all grown up and a beautiful
young woman, one day lay her head against my shoulder and said softly,
"Sing that song to me."
"What song?", I asked, puzzled.
"The one about the mockingbird and the billy goat and the diamond ring."
"OHHH
that song!"
And so I held the grown woman's head and crooned the long ago lullaby,
gently rocking back and forth as I did so. For a space of time, I was
imagining the chubby little girl with dark auburn curls I used to hold in
my arms, and perhaps she was imagining being one.
"Thank you," she said when I had finished, and raised up and kissed me on
the cheek, then went on about her grown up life.
I am no singer. I don't pretend to be a singer There is no talent I
would rather possess, but it simply was not written in the stars. The rich
singing voices and rhythmic dancing feet of my mother's people did not come
to me. I took after my father's people. I have two left feet and a voice
like a hoarse bullfrog. I know the latter is true because that is what a
choir director once told me, and I subsequently took him at his word and
gave of my talents in other departments. But "Hush little baby" must not
be about my singing ability at all. Must be about something else. Comfort
sound, like gravy is comfort food.
I go on about my grown up life every day, and most times I do pretty
well. But now and then, like my daughter, I need a few comfort
sounds. The squeaky rhythmic sound of a porch swing on its hinges does
that for me, and I imagine it might be because my mama used to tie my small
self and a pillow to one on my Pa's front porch and let it gently rock me
to sleep. Whippoorwills and crickets do that for me, and that is probably
because I associate that with the country nights "down home" as a
child "Amazing Grace" does that for me, and that is probably because I
associate it with a country church and the peace of a Sunday morning.
Comfort things. If I am feeling badly, my husband knows exactly what meal
I need, regardless of the time of day. Fried eggs and biscuits, gravy and
grits, bacon. He proceeds to the kitchen. Works the trick every time. I
see the sunny plate and think of a long ago kitchen with pleasant smells
and happy laughter, the warmth of an iron stove.
Comfort things. A quilt wrapped around tight on a blustery day, a cup of
hot chocolate, a soft feather pillow, a hike down a beaten trail under a
canopy of green trees and patches of blue, digging in the rich soil of
springtime, a dozen and more things that make one feel better, and when we
stop to think on it we can figure out why each item is in our list of home
remedies for healing a broken spirit.
Once upon a time, a professor gave a class a very strange, and most wise,
assignment. We were to choose one night and call it "Me Evening". On that
evening we were to plan only comforting things, things that made us "feel
good", things that left us fulfilled and happy. Odd, my list of
choices. Or perhaps not. Every single one of them could be traced to a
time in my life when I felt very secure and very comforted. Now is it any
wonder that supper that night was fried eggs and biscuits, gravy and grits,
bacon? Or that I spent a large part of the evening gently rocking back and
forth in a porch swing?
The day my daughter asked me to sing "that song", she had not told me of
any troubles. But I suspect, for just a space of time, my adult daughter
used that melody in a most wise manner. To gird herself for a coming day,
to face a tomorrow armed with the comfort of the past. It is no wonder that
I continue the tradition established by a long ago and most wise
professor. Now and then I have a "Me Evening" (I prefer to call it
"Comfort Night") and encourage those around me to do the same. It is a way
to feel enveloped by love and security, a way to celebrate the past that
laid the foundations for our "comfort things", a way to face the coming day
with a fresh outlook. Have a "Me Evening", folks. Feel comforted with
the roots that taught you how to be comforted, and offer it to yourself as
sustenance that you can better make comforting roots of your tomorrows.
Just a thought,
jan
Copyright ©2001janPhilpot
And because I know some of you will ask, here is the lullaby:
Hush little baby, don't say a word.
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass.
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat.
And if that billy goat runs away,
Mama's gonna sing this another day.
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(Note: Afternoon Rocking messages are meant to be passed on, meant to be
shared...simply share as written without alterations...and in entirety.
Thanks, jan)
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