Three Songs

“They sang three songs when I was born, and I expect they’ll sing the same three songs when I die. That’s what I want anyway,” the old woman told May. May smiled from where she was folding laundry. She stood and kissed the old woman on the cheek.

“Yes but you won’t die anytime soon now will you?” she said. May was of no relation to the old woman but came over several times a week to look after her and spend time with her. The old woman, who had no relatives anymore, had come to look at May as a favorite granddaughter who she could tell anything to. She taught May how to knit, sew, bake, and told her stories and in exchange May did any chores the old woman needed done.

“It isn’t a matter of whether I’m going to die soon or not,” the old woman told May. “The point is the songs, the songs are important. I’m not about to sing them, because my voice isn’t what it used to be, I’ve got them written down, what I want to tell you about is why they sang those songs when I was born.” May found a seat where she could sit comfortably, she always liked the old woman’s stories. They spoke of a time that was long gone, but for a moment you could imagine it wasn’t.

“My mother gave me the first song,” the old woman explained. “She wasn’t from this country you know. She came from Ireland at first, as a young woman. She didn’t have any family in this country so she found herself work taking care of a widower’s children. There were two of them, a little boy and a little girl. Mother used to talk about them a lot but I can’t remember their names now. It was a good job but because she lived with the family and took care of the children all of the time she didn’t get around as much as people these days to. Finally a man, who worked for the neighbors and was sweet on Mother came around and asked her to go out dancing with him, and she got permission to go.”

To be continued...