Chapter Two
I slept soundly that night. We had remained on deck for a long time - Father could not drag Mother Lavendar and me away from the tapestry of fairy stars that glittered in the night sky. But it grew late, and dreamland called. I had asked if I could please sleep on deck, under the stars, but Father said it wouldn't be proper. So Mother Lavendar laid a gentle arm around my shoulders and led me back to my little room below deck.
"Mother Lavendar," I'd called as she turned to leave my cabin, "this is such a special night.won't you sing me to sleep, like my little mother used to?"
Mother Lavendar smiled, and her eyes warmed as though the sun had risen behind them. "I used to sing to my little dream boy," she said softly.
"Oh, I knew you did," I sighed. "I just knew you did. Sing me the song you sang to him?"
Mother Lavendar glided over to me and sat on the edge of my bed, next to my pillows. I slid over nearer to her and leaned against her. She put her arm about me and I rested my head on her shoulder, and as she began to sing I could feel the humming it made in her. I felt the warm hum begin to grow into my cheek and my face, and a little bit in my back where her gentle hand rested. I closed my eyes.
She sang in such a lovely, soft voice, like pale purple silk. "I my loving vigil keeping, all through the night." Oh, I do love you, Mother Lavendar.
In the morning, Father woke me with a knock at my door, calling me for breakfast. I rose and donned my best brown suit, as I wanted to look very sophisticated when we docked in Boston. Examining myself in the glass that hung on the wall of my cabin, I straightened my back and held my head up confidently. Yes, I looked enough like I belonged in a big city.
Breakfast was a rich, wonderful meal of sausage, bread and butter, eggs, and fruit enough for everyone. I ate as though it were my last meal on earth - I had never tasted food so marvelous! Each bite I savored, taking great care to save one bite of each delicacy for the very end. It was so good, I didn't want the meal to end. The last bite of each dish I savored most of all, trying to fix the taste in my memory so I could imagine it back someday in the future.
After the meal was finished, Mother Lavendar and I took to the deck where we passed the entire morning, watching the travelers and keeping a weather eye out for land. Father spent the morning in the cabin, attending to business.
It was a beautiful day. The sun sparkled off the ripples in the water and made the surface positively glisten. The sea stretched out in all directions and above us, two perfect white clouds hung like fresh spun wool in the perfect blue sky.
"Look, Mother Lavendar," I whispered, pointing up at the clouds. "Our guardian angels have followed us here on their golden chariots."
"Oh, yes, there they are!" she said. "And look - your father's angel and mine are sharing a chariot."
"I see - it's pulled by two golden horses. Mine has one golden pony, but he's just strong enough. And look, he has velvet reins."
"Yes, and what a lovely shade of deep red they are. Can you see the silver ropes that ours have?"
"They're beautiful!" Then.I saw it. "Mother Lavendar! Look!"
I pointed ahead of me. Her gaze followed, and she saw what had caught my eye - the skyline of Boston, rising before us. Brick buildings packed so close together, I wondered how people walk around - it was like a forest made of red brick. Closest to the waterfront, smoke billowed out of factory chimneys. Even so far away, it already looked like a place where people hurried about and did important, urgent things. I wondered who was walking around among those buildings, and what they were thinking about, and what it would be like to be among them. Soon we would find out!
I ran down to the cabin and fetched Father, certain that he would want to see Boston as we approached it. He followed me up and we joined Mother Lavendar at the bow of the ship.
"There it is, son," he said. "Boston. What do you think?"
"It looks so busy," I said. We were just close enough that we could see the boats in the harbor - all kinds, chugging and gliding, leaving and arriving. And we were gliding in to join them. For one instant I felt as though we were headed into a storm - the strange awkward dance of the ships I the harbor did resemble the stirring of a tempest. But as the ship's men moved around us, calling to each other and making sure everything happened according to plan, I was reassured. They had their place and their purpose in this harbor-dance, making sure that our ship went on its course. Perhaps that was how it would be in the city - everyone making their way, a part in this huge machine.
I had never been in a city before, and I wondered as we entered the harbor what it would be like. Would I still be able to hear the call of my rock people? Would they find a place to live here? They are not fond of crowds. Will Mother Lavendar and I still be able to imagine things, or will such a new, busy reality crowd out our imaginings? Or will I find myself excited by the bustling and feel more sophisticated surrounded by elegance? Will I change much? What will I find here?
I wonder if every traveler has so many questions as he arrives in a new land. I looked up at Mother Lavendar and Father and they were holding hands, both gazing into the forest of brick that lay before us. They were wondering too, I knew it - wondering what life we would find. The docks grew still closer, and people came into view. It wouldn't be long before the boat would dock. What lay beyond the busy port for us?
I slept soundly that night. We had remained on deck for a long time - Father could not drag Mother Lavendar and me away from the tapestry of fairy stars that glittered in the night sky. But it grew late, and dreamland called. I had asked if I could please sleep on deck, under the stars, but Father said it wouldn't be proper. So Mother Lavendar laid a gentle arm around my shoulders and led me back to my little room below deck.
"Mother Lavendar," I'd called as she turned to leave my cabin, "this is such a special night.won't you sing me to sleep, like my little mother used to?"
Mother Lavendar smiled, and her eyes warmed as though the sun had risen behind them. "I used to sing to my little dream boy," she said softly.
"Oh, I knew you did," I sighed. "I just knew you did. Sing me the song you sang to him?"
Mother Lavendar glided over to me and sat on the edge of my bed, next to my pillows. I slid over nearer to her and leaned against her. She put her arm about me and I rested my head on her shoulder, and as she began to sing I could feel the humming it made in her. I felt the warm hum begin to grow into my cheek and my face, and a little bit in my back where her gentle hand rested. I closed my eyes.
She sang in such a lovely, soft voice, like pale purple silk. "I my loving vigil keeping, all through the night." Oh, I do love you, Mother Lavendar.
In the morning, Father woke me with a knock at my door, calling me for breakfast. I rose and donned my best brown suit, as I wanted to look very sophisticated when we docked in Boston. Examining myself in the glass that hung on the wall of my cabin, I straightened my back and held my head up confidently. Yes, I looked enough like I belonged in a big city.
Breakfast was a rich, wonderful meal of sausage, bread and butter, eggs, and fruit enough for everyone. I ate as though it were my last meal on earth - I had never tasted food so marvelous! Each bite I savored, taking great care to save one bite of each delicacy for the very end. It was so good, I didn't want the meal to end. The last bite of each dish I savored most of all, trying to fix the taste in my memory so I could imagine it back someday in the future.
After the meal was finished, Mother Lavendar and I took to the deck where we passed the entire morning, watching the travelers and keeping a weather eye out for land. Father spent the morning in the cabin, attending to business.
It was a beautiful day. The sun sparkled off the ripples in the water and made the surface positively glisten. The sea stretched out in all directions and above us, two perfect white clouds hung like fresh spun wool in the perfect blue sky.
"Look, Mother Lavendar," I whispered, pointing up at the clouds. "Our guardian angels have followed us here on their golden chariots."
"Oh, yes, there they are!" she said. "And look - your father's angel and mine are sharing a chariot."
"I see - it's pulled by two golden horses. Mine has one golden pony, but he's just strong enough. And look, he has velvet reins."
"Yes, and what a lovely shade of deep red they are. Can you see the silver ropes that ours have?"
"They're beautiful!" Then.I saw it. "Mother Lavendar! Look!"
I pointed ahead of me. Her gaze followed, and she saw what had caught my eye - the skyline of Boston, rising before us. Brick buildings packed so close together, I wondered how people walk around - it was like a forest made of red brick. Closest to the waterfront, smoke billowed out of factory chimneys. Even so far away, it already looked like a place where people hurried about and did important, urgent things. I wondered who was walking around among those buildings, and what they were thinking about, and what it would be like to be among them. Soon we would find out!
I ran down to the cabin and fetched Father, certain that he would want to see Boston as we approached it. He followed me up and we joined Mother Lavendar at the bow of the ship.
"There it is, son," he said. "Boston. What do you think?"
"It looks so busy," I said. We were just close enough that we could see the boats in the harbor - all kinds, chugging and gliding, leaving and arriving. And we were gliding in to join them. For one instant I felt as though we were headed into a storm - the strange awkward dance of the ships I the harbor did resemble the stirring of a tempest. But as the ship's men moved around us, calling to each other and making sure everything happened according to plan, I was reassured. They had their place and their purpose in this harbor-dance, making sure that our ship went on its course. Perhaps that was how it would be in the city - everyone making their way, a part in this huge machine.
I had never been in a city before, and I wondered as we entered the harbor what it would be like. Would I still be able to hear the call of my rock people? Would they find a place to live here? They are not fond of crowds. Will Mother Lavendar and I still be able to imagine things, or will such a new, busy reality crowd out our imaginings? Or will I find myself excited by the bustling and feel more sophisticated surrounded by elegance? Will I change much? What will I find here?
I wonder if every traveler has so many questions as he arrives in a new land. I looked up at Mother Lavendar and Father and they were holding hands, both gazing into the forest of brick that lay before us. They were wondering too, I knew it - wondering what life we would find. The docks grew still closer, and people came into view. It wouldn't be long before the boat would dock. What lay beyond the busy port for us?
