Thursday, April 8, 2010

Parent Patter

As a child, I remember drifting to sleep with the sounds of my parents sifting through the muted lights of the house. Like a lullaby, their voices, sounds and conversations lulled me to sleep. I usually wondered what they discussed, questioning whether it was different than the conversations held when I was awake. But those questions lingered only for moments as I fell asleep rapidly, calm because of their proximity and constant rhythm.

The evening sounds of parents, especially the very special sounds that accompany dinner parties and company, lure like moths to a flame. I still remember drifting to sleep to the hypnotic sounds of clinking glasses, bursts of laughter and hushed whispers. It all seemed so lyrical, glamorous and adult.

Now, as my children sleep (through most anything--a major blessing), I wonder what prattle and pixilation of hubby's and my evenings rise up through the rafters into their rooms and shape their dreams. Do they hear the music of our amblings? Do our sound patterns provide a cellular-level grasp of our nearness, and their safety? Will they remember hubby and I kissing them each night, whispering our love like a skipping record into their ears and souls?

I hope so.

And in a natural turn of events, I now find that the symphonic nighttime sounds of my children crafting a new lullaby. A little cough, a tousled sheet, the padding of pudgy feet to the bathroom. A long, contented sigh. All wrapping me in a nestled, idyllic hug. Fleeting yet divine. I know that the beautiful harmony might give way to dissonance at any moment (vomit, fevers, nightmares and wet beds). So I embrace the melodic while it resides right here, right now.