Ollie’s Song

So, this has been a really busy bunch of months, and, in case you have been watching, I have not been posting every Monday morning, or even every week. As I was trying to go to sleep the other night, for some reason, words to a lullaby kept coming into my mind; not a known lullaby, but a new one, especially for our upcoming grandchild. They flowed into my mind, and I hoped that in the morning I would be able to remember them. Ha. Well, I got up and wrote them down. Laid back down. Tried to sleep. More words kept coming. Got up again. Wrote them down, and put them to an Irish tune in the morning. Now, we are waiting for baby to come in November!

Come away wee little laddie
Lean your head upon my breast.
Come away with me to dreamland.
Close your eyes and take a rest.

Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure;
More than silver, more than gold.
You're a gift sent straight from Heaven;
Ours to love and ours to hold.

May the stars that light the heavens
Shine their light throughout the night.
Stand a watch as you are sleeping,
'Til the morning shines her light.

Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure;
More than silver, more than gold.
You're a gift sent straight from Heaven;
Ours to love and ours to hold.

May the sun shine down upon you;
Keep you safe and keep you warm.
May our love abide forever;
Keep you far away from harm.

Oh, wee lad, you are a treasure;
More than silver, more than gold.
You're a gift sent straight from Heaven;
Ours to love and ours to hold.

May you always know we love you,
Little Laddie, boy of mine!










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But, You Can!

If I wrote about a vacation, who would want to read it? Is there anyone as interested in the details as I am? I don’t think so….I think I write for me; kind of making a road map of life events that somehow allow you to take that road again–maybe not in the car or on the plane–maybe so, but maybe not. You don’t have to because you’ve already been there. You’ve already seen the show and it slips into one of those folders in that huge filing cabinet small enough to fit invisibly in my mind, or is it my spirit?..It must be because it’s not tangible. But I can open up that folder at will…that’s why I write. That’s why I take photos; otherwise, I fear the folder might be empty–what then?

Then I can’t achieve a ‘state of being’. I can’t dance to the music again. I can’t skip down the street. I can’t sparkle inside. I can’t absorb the saturation of excitement, and it can’t lift me, can’t give me wings….ah…but my folder isn’t empty, and so I can! You see, I don’t have to really come home to stay. Neither do you. Just take that smile , vision, thrill, tear, that time when you held your breath and when you held so tight, sang so free, felt so glorious, and heard their wonder, exhilaration, awe, fulfillment…it’s all there. It’s a state of being, bolted and bonded, never to really ever slip away. Isn’t it wondrous?