"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


My parents never sang me to sleep, and I can't blame them. The musical talents in our family run very, very dry. My parents did, however, tuck me in each night, tell me they loved me. These kinds of comforts are invaluable. I find sometimes one of the hardest things about being an adult is having to always take care of yourself, never having the luxury of letting someone else do it for you. Sometimes after a long day, you just want a home cooked meal and someone to tuck you in.
Sometimes I feel this loss quite painfully, knowing that not only do I now have to pick my own self up and tuck my own self in, but that one day I will be the one who is constantly doing it for my little ones. I will of course be happy to give the love and help, but where does that leave me? So much giving and taking care of others and no one swooping me up and telling me its going to be alright. At least not in the way a parent does for a child.

The one lullaby I did get to hear growing up that always makes me smile is one that was sung to us every night at a sleep away summer camp i went to for several summers. When I think of it, I am back in a cabin, tucked away in a sleeping bag on a bunk bed, feeling so safe and sure. I can smell the pine trees and feel the sting of summer sun on my skin.
And so when I really need a lullaby these days, I sing it to myself in my head.
It goes like this:

The time has come for us to say
That it has been a lovely day
And God's spirit dwelling in your heart
Won't be leaving cause the sun goes down
So have a good night
Have a good night
Have a good good night
Have a good night my good friend

Monday, September 10, 2012

Where time stands still

Misty with rain, a slow moving and dreamy Paris with a moonlight serenade soundtrack is where I lie. Far from the mundane it shines and inspires. The benches and love that warms them are slick and beautiful. Here is a pace and a lovely haze where time ceases to pass. Black and white with dots of warmly worn pastels shape the vignette that complete this view of romance and a passionate solitude. Both comprise the intangible magic that is this place. The people who create and are inspired by the trees, the bridges, the buildings, impossible for them to be intertwined in anything else but the sway and pull of this place, and those who are buried in one another, their infatuation only strengthened by the timeless glow of a city alight with romance.
And a sign. Just like the doors, of thick wood carefully painted in soft pretty letters inviting one to find a place in its landmark, the cafe. They say, come sit and watch. Watch the lovers, as their legs intertwine under a huge umbrella, the rain as it somehow lights up the streets and the buildings. Imagine and taste, think and love. Be here, so present and so wonderfully far away with ideas and notions that can't help but be inspired by the beauty that surrounds. The iron balconies and abundant window boxes filled with brightly colored flowers. The rooftops popping with dormers leaves an everlasting impression.
A place in time where beauty is in every inch and ideas and love thrive, never one without the other.