Let me preface by saying my mom is amazing. I owe so much of who I am to her. When people say they don't want to grow up to be like their mother, I just don't "get it". I want to be just like her. One of my favorite childhood memories with her was when she would tuck me in each night before I went to sleep. She wrote me my own special lullaby that she would sing to me most nights. I remember my clean sheets pulled up around my shoulders, her hands rubbing my hair away from my face, and her sweet voice singing words she made up completely out of love.
Today, I sing this song to my own son. I have sung it to him since he was a baby and even though he is eleven and in middle school, he still asks me many nights to sing, The Flower Song. I changed the story to include a little boy rather than a little girl. I hope one day he knows the love for his children is far stronger than the worry of an out of pitch voice and that he too will sing The Flower Song to them.
The Flower Song
Once there was a little flower
that grew all alone.
It had no friends around it;
no one to call its own.
But then one day,
a little boy came running through the field.
He saw that pretty flower
and his heart beat with glee.
He knelt beside the flower,
and touched it tenderly.
He thought how pretty it would be
his mother it to give.
He picked that pretty flower,
and ran home so swiftly.
He gave it to his Mommy;
who smiled happily.
They went out to the garden,
and picked three roses red.
They put them with that wildflower;
who held up its pretty head.
But in that lovely meadow,
still no friends it would have
But now it has three pretty friends;
Three Pretty Roses Red.
