row row row your boatgently down the stream
merrily merrily merrily merrily
life is but a dream...
It's funny how once a baby enters into your life (or even into your arms) a slew of nursery rhymes, riddles and children's songs begin to tumble out of your mouth! I mean how often do you sit around and sing about twinkling little stars? I think it's just part of our genetics. We are programmed to soothe and care for these little lives even though we think we have no idea how to do so. Anyways, the point is that while sitting in the rocker chair with Elias yesterday I realized just how perfect the lyrics "life is but a dream" were at describing my current state of being. First, and most obviously to me is that these past two weeks have felt like a waking dream. The days have meshed into the nights (with no help to Syracuse's lack of sunshine) and it's been hard to decipher the days. It's a mix of survival mode and the continual chipping away of allowing myself to believe that he is really mine...like I said...it feels like a dream.
Secondly, the idea of "rowing a boat" is identical to the theme of Elias's room. One of the things I've always enjoyed doing is decorating. I'm not talking the seasonal hokey stuff that rotates each new holiday season, I mean taking a room and giving a feeling to it. Needless to say every room in our house has been my canvas (thank you Mo for not caring) and the baby's room has been no different. It was really exciting this summer to think about what I wanted to surround our child with. To a certain degree it really didn't matter - he could sleep in a drawer and not know the difference - but in the end his room was a gift I wanted to give him. I was drawn to the idea of a sailboat. There is just something peaceful about such a large boat moving along in the water powered quietly by the wind. I had this feeling he'd love the water (and if his bath time temperament is any indication - I'm right). So here it is, the place where Elias can dream!
**Also, I'd like to thank my family and friends who made some creative pieces of art as contributions.
4 comments:
What a cute nursery - and I love the reference to that song - it's always been one of my favorites. I have loved re-discovering nursery rhymes and lullabies with my kids - so much fun to relive it all again. :)
As your mom, it's been surreal; my baby had a baby and as a grandmother, thus far, it really does feel like a heavenly dream and a true blessing in every sense of the word.
lol "he could sleep in a drawer" :) another enjoyable blog post!
City That Does Not Sleep
In the sky there is nobody asleep.Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
stars.
Nobody is asleep on earth.Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.
Life is not a dream.Careful!Careful!Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists.Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.
One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
eyes of cows.
Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful!Be careful!Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.
Nobody is sleeping in the sky.Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world.No one, no one.
I have said it before.
No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theaters.
Federico García Lorca
http://www.poemhunter.com/
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