Lullaby

Of course I do.

I admit it.

Far too much of my time is spent on one or the other of my three iPads.

I confess I am a bit embarrassed by this admission. However, I find such unbelievable joy in an internet discovery that all shame quickly disappears.

Early this morning (another cold bleak snowy Sunday) while savoring my second cup of strong dark black coffee, I idly hit my Apple music list.

As I searched for one of the gems of my yesteryears, a lovely rendition of Brahms lullaby popped up instead on my screen.

“Wiegenlied” sung by three of the greatest vocalists of my time (and maybe yours) reaffirmed my digital commitment.

I never had the pleasure of hearing the trio of renowned vocalists perform or attend one of their celebrated live performances.

Still, their rendition of the never forgotten lullaby resurrected a vibrant memory of my incredible parent.

Bill Donlon cooked my dinner and put me to bed for the first five years of my life. My Mother spent her days and nights and weekends carrying for her invalid “Marm,” my maternal grandmother.

Dad wasn’t a memorable tenor or bass, but had a distinctive voice rich with emotion as nightly he read fairy tales to his little girl.

I never closed my eyes without hearing how a handsome prince arrived in time to reclaim his kingdom and rescue the captured princess.

Then shortly before the proverbial Sandman arrived, I would listen as Dad softly hummed “Lullaby and Goodnight.”

It was not the music, but his love, that sent me to dreamland and kept the bad dreams away.

This winter morning a lullaby resurrected memories of his devoted care and helped me again face the limited world that is mine today.

And his memory will not allow any bad dreams to keep me awake tonight.