My daughter's class is singing Danny Boy.
A playdate after school today became
A dinner date for six of us - my two,
A mom, and hers (two also). They all came
A little after school. The kids were through
With homework. We had nothing left to do,
But play, and eat, and play, till time to go.
The boys played ball, the girls next door came out,
And casualties were light: a pinch, a blow -
No one could tell me what they fought about -
They just kept playing. No one seemed to know,
Or care. Inside, we cooked, and talked of things,
While watching them exploring in the yard:
The depth of blackness separation brings,
The salad, fear of love, the lives to guard,
The pasta. Getting used to life alone,
And calling all to wash their hands and eat.
The conversation took a lighter tone
As children all came in and took a seat,
And asked for drinks, and who could sit with whom,
And more of this or that, and saying please;
The kitchen table barely had the room
For all, but we had dinner with an ease
That came from being friends, since long before
The marriages began to break apart.
And dinner for the grownups was a more
Reflective time, to check in on their heart,
To see how honest they could be for now.
To speak of things that they'd forgotten how.
And Danny Boy arose, and sang to me,
Of memory, and love, and things to fear,
And things to hope, and things to maybe see,
And maybe somewhere else, or maybe here,
All in a song of someone else's joy
And grief, my daughter sings oh Danny Boy.
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Alysa Salzberg
Melissa Miles McCarter
Scarlett Sumac
jlsathre
Matt Paust
Jowita Bydlowska
Salon.com
Comments
by the end, i was singing danny boy, danny boy...
To see how honest they could be for now.
To speak of things that they'd forgotten how."
What a gift you are giving to your children, that you and their mother get along. They are learning such a beautiful lesson that they will carry with them, and will add to their trust in the world.
My folks tried to still take us to a fair together, as a family, once a year. They also called each other once a year to say "happy birthday," shared warm embraces at our life events such as graduations, weddings, births, etc...It always made my sisters and I pause and tear up a bit. It also made me feel at peace.
this is one of your best, DB!
Thanks all.
The pasta. Getting used to life alone,"
I love the alternation between dinner fixin's & the existential moment.
Thanks for popping by.
The depth of blackness separation brings,
The salad, fear of love, the lives to guard,
The pasta. Getting used to life alone,
and how Danny Boy (a melancholy song strangely without melancholy), with green meadows and the pipes calling and buried joy, " in sun and shadow, was reflected throughout, most clearly in your final stanza.