All the Horses

All the horses in the land
All belong to Jenny
Black and bay and sorrel and gray
All belong to Jenny

The gentle and melancholy lyric he sang mingled with the rustle of the wind through the trees and the rhythmic creak of the ancient hammock.  We rocked to and fro, up and down, not too fast and not too slow.  Side by side we lay, my small head resting under his long, outstretched arm. 

The chores of a summer day were complete, and we came here to bid farewell to the sun and heat and welcome the cool night breeze and cicadas’ song.  I gazed up at the canopy of oak trees above our heads and waited patiently for the moon to appear in the night sky, through a gap in the branches. 

As my father continued to sing, and tenderly stroke my hair with his hand, my eyelids grew heavy with sleep and contentment.  As soon as he stopped, I’d plead, “Again, Daddy, again?” until I finally slipped into night dreams of all the horses that were mine to name.


All the horses in the land
All belong to Jamie
Black and bay and sorrel and gray
All belong to Jamie

“Again, Mama, again!”

He perched on my lap as we rocked in the old glider, his chubby fists clutching the book of lullabies.  This one was his favorite. 

I sighed and felt a hot tear stain my cheek and run down to blend into his soft, yellow curls as his head rested under my chin.

Of course I’ll sing it again for you, James.

 

Comments

  1. Replies
    1. Thank you, Stacie, missing my dad today!

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  2. This was awesomely moving. You words have an excellent rhythm. Beautiful.

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  3. That has to be my favorite lullaby. I never thought of changing the word to personalize it. What a lovely memory that created for you and now your son.

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