Because you know that you would be remembered?
Well, that just happened to me.
To understand how I’ve arrived at this conclusion, you have to know two things:
One—that our family has its ROUTINES when it comes to bedtime.
Set in stone.
Don’t mess with this.
There will be cosmic significance.
And two—that our family has its yearly vacation at a time share here in beautiful Banff, Alberta.
Also immovable and fixed.
Now let me explain that winking-out-tomorrow part:
First the ROUTINE . . .
There are several steps beginning with the all-important choosing and donning of the PJs. Then the nearly as important bedtime snack (or three) followed by the brushing-of-the-biters. (Probably the least favourite part of the whole getting-ready-for-bed routine.) Once the teeth are shiny, we have prayers, story reading and lights out.
Then the song.
The culmination of the whole sequence.
This song, like the story and prayer, can vary, depending on the mood of the child.
It just doesn’t.
For this part, you need a bit of background . . .
When our oldest grandchild was two, she had her first sleep-over with Gramma and Grampa. Gramma sang her favourite ‘sleepy’ song, Morningtown Ride.
And, unwittingly created a legacy.
And now we get to the ‘die tomorrow’ part of the story.
Because every grandchild, whether going to sleep at Gramma’s or at home, has to have Morningtown Ride sung.
At least once.
How do I know this?
Back to Banff.
I was downstairs, writing.
Our DIL, Barb, was putting her two youngest to bed.
And suddenly, from their bedroom came the familiar words Train whistle blowing . . .
Later, DIL explained that every one of her children—and their cousins—have to have that song sung every night.
Yep. Gramma could die tomorrow.
And she’d be remembered.
Wanna hear the song?