Post by Anastasia Yates on Oct 16, 2010 17:03:28 GMT -5
A slim girl walks around the lake, looking out over the crystal-clear water, wondering if she made the right choice in coming here. For a moment, she stops, watching for the slightest ripple in the water, something to tell her that it's not all just a dream. The lake is still, as if mocking the girl. She drops heavily onto a boulder dropped by the edge of the water, her slim form silhouetted against the dying sun.
A beautiful woman runs along the beach, laughing. A pair of sandals dangle from her hand. A small girl, so similar to the woman that you could have believed they were the same person at different points in a life, scuttles alongside the water, somehow keeping up with the long strides of the woman.
The girl smiles softly, but a tear slides down one cheek. It was the only vacation the two ever took. The woman on the beach was so different from the mother she knew, so caught up with work so that she had no time for the girl. She reaches up and wipes the tear away.
"Mama, can we read this book tonight?" A small girl, probably four or five, holds up a book, Dr. Seuss's 'Red Fish, Blue Fish'. "Not now, baby. I've got a lot of work to do. Maybe another time." The girl climbs onto her mother's lap, looking at the orderly rows of numbers stretching out on the Excel spreadsheet. She has an overwhelming urge to reach out and draw squiggles all over the computer screen, but she knows that would only get her in trouble. She feels her mother's arms wrap around her, a quick hug. It's all the girl ever gets. "G'night, sweetie." the woman says. "G'night, mama." The girl hops off of the big leather chair, pulling the book with her. She slips it sadly back onto the shelf. "Don't let the bedbugs bite!" calls her mother as the girl walks into her room. The girl steels herself to the grim fact that for the rest of her life, she would have to tuck herself in at night, pour herself her own glass of water, and sing herself to sleep. She brushes her teeth, flips off the light, and curls up under the covers, singing quietly under her breath, as not to disturb her mother.
Even when so much time has past, the girl can still remember the lyrics to the song she sang every night.
"Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes,
And save these questions for another day.
I think I know what you've been asking me,
I think you know what I've been trying to say.
I promised I would never leave you,
And you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away.
Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep,
And still so many things I want to say.
Remember all the songs you sang for me,
When we went sailing on an emerald bay.
And like a boat out on the ocean,
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me.
Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream,
And dream how wonderful your life will be.
Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby,
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me.
Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabys go on and on
They never die
That's how you and I will be."
She sings the words softly, wishing her mother had sung her to sleep at least once.
A beautiful woman runs along the beach, laughing. A pair of sandals dangle from her hand. A small girl, so similar to the woman that you could have believed they were the same person at different points in a life, scuttles alongside the water, somehow keeping up with the long strides of the woman.
The girl smiles softly, but a tear slides down one cheek. It was the only vacation the two ever took. The woman on the beach was so different from the mother she knew, so caught up with work so that she had no time for the girl. She reaches up and wipes the tear away.
"Mama, can we read this book tonight?" A small girl, probably four or five, holds up a book, Dr. Seuss's 'Red Fish, Blue Fish'. "Not now, baby. I've got a lot of work to do. Maybe another time." The girl climbs onto her mother's lap, looking at the orderly rows of numbers stretching out on the Excel spreadsheet. She has an overwhelming urge to reach out and draw squiggles all over the computer screen, but she knows that would only get her in trouble. She feels her mother's arms wrap around her, a quick hug. It's all the girl ever gets. "G'night, sweetie." the woman says. "G'night, mama." The girl hops off of the big leather chair, pulling the book with her. She slips it sadly back onto the shelf. "Don't let the bedbugs bite!" calls her mother as the girl walks into her room. The girl steels herself to the grim fact that for the rest of her life, she would have to tuck herself in at night, pour herself her own glass of water, and sing herself to sleep. She brushes her teeth, flips off the light, and curls up under the covers, singing quietly under her breath, as not to disturb her mother.
Even when so much time has past, the girl can still remember the lyrics to the song she sang every night.
"Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes,
And save these questions for another day.
I think I know what you've been asking me,
I think you know what I've been trying to say.
I promised I would never leave you,
And you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away.
Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep,
And still so many things I want to say.
Remember all the songs you sang for me,
When we went sailing on an emerald bay.
And like a boat out on the ocean,
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me.
Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream,
And dream how wonderful your life will be.
Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby,
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me.
Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabys go on and on
They never die
That's how you and I will be."
She sings the words softly, wishing her mother had sung her to sleep at least once.
