I can still hear it my mind. The ping of steel drums. And bob marley’s smooth voice crooning the words. Pumped through the speakers daily. As I sat. Lounging by the pool. Drink in hand. And life. Felt perfect.
Woke up this morning… Smiled with the rising sun… Three little bi-irds… Sat by my doorstep.
We were on our honeymoon. It was a true tropical paradise. And we didn’t have a care in the world. Or at least, if we did, we hadn’t a clue. Because we were practically babies. And all we needed was love.
Singin’ sweet songs… Of melodies pure and true… Singin’… This is my message to you-u-u…
Eventually we went from a we to three. We had one son. And the same song just happened to be on an Elizabeth Mitchell CD. And a “that baby” CD. And as that first baby would scream, and cry and arch his back like an acrobat, I would sing, sometimes through tears…
Singin’ don’t worry… About a thing… Cause every little thing… Is gonna be alright…
And though at the time, everything felt far less than perfect, as far from perfect as it could feel, I still sang the words. In hopes that they would ring true. I don’t know, really, if I sang the words for me or for him, but now… just like that… he’s 4. And he sleeps at night. And he can put on his own coat. And he has a “few attitudes every day”. And to us, if we could have written it, he’s just the person we would have dreamt he’d be at 4.
And then we had a second son. Who was often discontent. And who was so little but felt like a lotta work. Who could match his older brother scream for scream. Who spit. And arched. And took some time to grow into himself. And again, that perfect honeymoon feeling, was nowhere to be found. While love was good, it felt as though all we needed was a happy baby and a tropical drink in hand. And again, we sang the same words to him.
Singin’ don’t worry… About a thing… Cause every little thing… Is gonna be alright.
And just like that… He’s two and a half. And full of moxie and might. And doesn’t take guff from anyone. And idolizes his big brother. And he naps. And eats breakfast like a boss. And while he still challenges us daily, we can now see, that he is just the type of perfect that will suit him. And right now, he’s sweeter than I would have imagined.
I woke up this mornin’. Smiled at the rising sun and got ready to go visit our third little bird. Who, though smaller than some, is just right to us. Because it’s what he is, for now. And while everyone wonders how he’s doing and how I’m doing and how the best man I know is holding up, though I am sure it sounds completely crazy… Somehow, some way… Life feels sort of just right. Or maybe just as it is meant to be for right now. Probably because I’m still riding a hormonal wave. But a type of right that I didn’t know before. Very different than the perfection of that beach. And the sunshine. And not having a care in the world.
If there were a soundtrack to our lives, this tune would play. And it would play in the times of near-seeming perfection. And times of complete chaos. It would sometimes be accompanied by laughter and dancing. And other times, tears and anger and unnerving frustration. In the hours of sunshine and in the darkest hours of dusk. All to the pinging of the steel drum band.
The three little birds. Flew into our nest. And they give our life a sweet song. And melody pure and true. And we continue to be hopeful, each day. That every. Little. Thing. Is gonna be alright.
