Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • When I was a young girl, I would often fall asleep to the sounds of my mother at her sewing machine just outside my room in the circular center room on the second floor of our home. I would call to her, "Goodnight, Mommy!" to which she would reply, "Goodnight, Honey!", as she returned to her sewing. One time, I awoke to the sound of her sewing machine in the middle of the night. Spooked, I went to her room to find her asleep next to my father.

    Years later, I wrote this poem to commemorate the experience:

    I remember
    often leaning into my room with the light
    were the sounds of my mother:
    her sewing machine softly chiding,
    her voice sweetly saying,
    "Good Night, Honey",
    as I drifted off to sleep.

    But one night
    I awoke and heard
    Lady Kenmore* singing alone.
    Blinking away the black of night,
    I strained to see but only saw
    the dark-speckled grey
    of emptiness.

    It was then
    her "Good night, Honey"
    whispered in my bewildered ears
    leaving me in awe and alone.


    *(Kenmore is U.S. brand of sewing machine)
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.