My mother’s family never could sing, so my father’s mother (both died before I was a year old) sang to me “Pack up all your cares and woes, here we go, singing low, bye bye blackbird.”
I would need the lyrics and can figure it out myself, for her. When we moved to our first home I heard scrambling between the sheetrock and the other barriers outside. We had tons of mice. I’d go to sleep and be awakened by them and be so scared I’d go and wake up my parents. After a couple of weeks it was a lullaby.
When I was finally on my own at 21 I sang Dad his father’s song to him, the one his father did on his 21st birthday. They were both musicians but Dad became more than that of a carpenter’s son, learning, teaching and leading worthy organizations.
That year I got my own place and it was blissful, an old place with shutters that folded into the walls. Two blocks from work so I could always be called in the middle of the night for them to say to others, Dee’s home, she’s single, and can be there in five minutes!
I had a lullaby back then. I had a great old place and could walk to work but it was on the 2nd floor on the only two-way street downtown. Semi’s would grind their gears down and up at the light. Like the mice, it was a lullaby at night. Guests on my new pull-out sofa did not agree. I just didn’t see it that way, or even hear it anymore.
Now we’ve a lot of other sounds, but up here we only hear sirens, squealing brakes, car horns and Harleys as we don’t hear the smaller bikes or any car. Mostly early morning when I’m well done with some deep sleep and I’m ready for REM and up. Get dressed for whatever weather and be ready to take out then feed the dog.
There was a thief in our place for a while who broke into open doors and stole money and jewelry, cell phones et al. Nothing big to carry. She was caught red-handed, even on camera, but the District Attorney decided not to prosecute. Let’s see, there was also a killer in our midst. And one guy crashed through the lobby window trying to steal a plasma screen not knowing that it actually needed a brain to run it and that the brain was locked up elsewhere.
My husband bought me a “stick” to keep under the front door to keep us safe when he’s off on business. Sirens and Harleys (while they’re both great) are not a lullaby but then I’m older and not sleeping as soundly as I was as a baby. Rockaby, sweet baby, Dee
Cooking with Dee 