Isaac is our youngest and, at ten months, not much on sleeping… up with a wail every 30 minutes all night long.
This evening, after awakening number one, I carried him to the front porch for some pacing. What a gorgeous night! Warm, breezy, bugs chirping away… did I mention that we had a snow storm last week? We’ve endured a painfully long winter. Welcome sweet spring!
Isaac and I moved our barefoot back-and-forth to the sidewalk and picked up something new… the faint strain of a fiddle. The sirens’ song set to work immediately and we trundled across the street, through a couple of dark backyards strewn with toys, over an old rock wall, brushed past some brambles… the music getting closer.
Finally, we came upon a couple of neighborhood dads. Bill (violin) and Andy (guitar), barely visible still at ten paces, were playing a string of Appalachian tunes. They stopped the music to say hello and Isaac burst into tears. As soon as they revved it back up, he calmed… eventually snuggling in against my chest and falling asleep as we swayed in time.
I could have stayed there all night… an unexpected treasure of a moment. A bit later the smell of skunk wafted over the fence and broke the spell. I bid our musical neighbors a good night and ambled back to tuck my baby boy in his crib. May everyone live in such wonderful and real community with those around them.