Telling Stories at 3 am & Other Fun Things

Last night, two things happened.

1)  My neighbor, back in Utah, called me to tell me that we had transients getting a little too cozy with our home.  Hanging out in the front yard, having picnics.  Taking chairs off our front porch.  That sort of thing.  I told her to alert the neighbors, put on her mean face, & tell them to get off our property, or else.  Hope that works.

I went to sleep a little shaken, worried about our home far away, that’s not quite our home anymore.

2)  A few hours later, something occurred that made me forget about worries of our home.  Hyrum woke up several times during the night crying.  He said his leg hurt.  Growing pains, I assume.

He’s not a baby.  Almost 7 now, but he still needs his mom.

This is how I will remember him, even when he’s 35.

At one point he snuggled into bed with me & asked me to tell him a story.

I’m not much of a storyteller, but when I’m half asleep, I can tell a good story with the best of them.  If I only I could harness my creative energy from that dream-like state of grogginess, I could make something of myself yet.

I don’t remember all the details (it was 3 am, after all), only that it involved some bunnies named Buck & Lopsi (I’m telling you, when I’m half asleep these things just come to me).  It turned out to be a morality tale, as Buck in the end learned three important lessons about self-less love, being honest & that ice cream is always better when shared.

While the details of the story are sketchy at this point, I know Hyrum was riveted because when I finished he said, “I really liked that story mom. ”  I held him.  And thought about the moments between wakefullness & dreaming , where somehow, my job as a mother is defined.

Yes, I tell stories, to crying children, in my bed, at 3 am.

And they are good stories. ♥♥♥


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