75: Bedtime Stories

75: Bedtime Stories

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Amazing Mom

Bedtime Stories

Children will not remember you for the material things you provided, but for the feeling that you cherished them.

~Richard L. Evans

Nights in bed with my mother

Stories flowed through the dark—

Red fairgrounds, blue seashores, green-wet, shimmering parks,

And the images rainbowed and spread arcs of dreams,

As her life ran in to me in pictureful streams.

I’d listen enrapt

As they’d bloom in my head,

Great gardens of moments come alive in the bed,

And I’d see her the heroine win what in life

Had eluded her when she became someone’s wife.

Each night a new tale,

Then, a favourite of old

But the warmth and the smell of her skin always told

Of days at Cavehill, or the nights when she sang

And I’d long in my young heart for times auld lang syne.

In the dark we’d explore

Wild musical fairs,

And I’d watch from the edge of her dreams as her hair

Curled in and through candy-floss memories so sweet

’Til at last I was found by sleep’s secret police.

She’s been gone twenty years

But these stories still spark

Like stars on cold nights, pinprick holes in the dark

And I’ve learned in the end, what I knew at the start

All my life is her story, a dream of her heart.

~Carolyn McCartney

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