As Angie helped each child wind down to go to sleep over the years, she would sit on the side of their bed and ask, “What was your favorite part of the day?” They would talk about watching a Monarch butterfly emerge from its chrysalis, a picnic at the park, rollerskating, or a trip to see grandparents. That question seemed the perfect opening line of a lullaby. Walking on Rabbit Lane, I played around with a tune, and settled on beginning with my favorite interval, the octave (or perfect 8th). The melody and lyrics came as the weeks and months clocked by. This song celebrates all of the end-of-day conversations between parents and children about their special moments together. Sing it alone to your child or as a parent-child dialog, with you and your child taking turns singing portions of the song to each other as indicated in the score found at the link below. (For more on this song, see the post Chapter 24: Remembering the Day of the Rabbit Lane: Memoir page of this blog.)
–The Sego Lily is the most delicate and elegant of chalices, a veritable grail.–
The state highway traverses the valley three-quarters of a mile away, perpendicular to Church Road as I approach Rabbit Lane. In the dark morning, a long line of white headlights travels north toward the Great Salt Lake, becoming red taillights as I pan from south to north.
Where do they all go? Continue reading
–Bend, bend, but don’t break.–
I had rescued Austin from his fall just two years before. Now the barrel-chested man was gone. Mary, his widow, a diminutive black-haired woman in her nineties, lived alone. We tried to visit her one afternoon. We knocked and knocked, but no one answered the door. Later we learned that she slept during the day and lived her waking life at night. I now understood the dim yellow light that glowed late at night from her living room window. Continue reading