Irish Lullaby by Nancy Gilbert

At the end of the long road is a house
with yellow daffodils by the front door
and prickly vines growing wildly in the back.

As I peer inside the large picture window,
I see the musical teapot. I see the wolves.

There were three of us in the house.
Sometimes Sister is there but mostly it’s Mother, Father, and me.
I am the only one left – me and the wolves.
I am the Sylvan historian.

*
Over in Killarney, many years ago,
My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way
And I'd give the world if I could hear that song of hers today.

"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter; therefore,
ye soft pipes play on."

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know,"

*
That is all I need to know? What do future generations need to know?
Her illness is still a mystery. It needs a cure. The wolves need to be tamed.

The beautiful, awful truth is that the wolves held her brain captive.
They howled. They devoured. They left the stench of their dung.

*

The beautiful teapot was cracked in many places.
Glue held it together.
The glue is sacred to me.

The musical teapot, yet broken, is heard.
Its notes are in my brain, not hers.
Her brain was broken.

The awful truth is shared by her historian.
I am the only one gnawing at the past.

The wolves came every season, but the winters were especially hard. Their eyes were wide. Their fangs looked crimson. Their howling could shatter the teapot.

Father is driving in the car. I'm in the back seat. We are about to go over a railroad track. Mother suddenly attacks father. She is like a wolf with fangs and wild eyes. She is going for blood. Her red bandana stays on her head the entire time. We drive home. I am five, and I go to school the next day. I feel as though I am mangled by the wolf, but there is no blood on my body.

We skipped spring that year and many years after.

*

There are more cracks in the teapot.
Glue held it together.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Hush now, don't you cry

*

During the summer, we travel to see Father's family. At night, behind closed doors, I hear the wolf again.

Mother screams at Father. She howls about his family.

“They are horrible people!” she yells over and over.

I am on the other side of the door with the “horrible people”. We hear the wolf ranting and raving. If only, if only, if only there was a sedative for the wolf.

There are more cracks in the teapot.
Glue held it together.

The wolves have taken control again. Mother is in the hospital.

She takes too many pills. Her stomach is pumped. She talks to invisible people. We all fear the wolves.

The next year, Mother says she took too many pills. Her stomach is pumped.
They find nothing.

I hear the doctor say, “It’s painful to have your stomach pumped.”

*

I quietly wish the wolves would eat the invisible people.

*

In the fall, Mother dyes my hair charcoal black. My teacher shows my hair to another teacher.

"Why did your mother do this?!" she asks me in an angry tone.

I shrug my shoulders. I have no clue. I wish I could tell her about the wolves.

There are more cracks in the teapot.
Glue held it together.

It is Western Day at school. The principal says the girls CANNOT wear jeans. I tell Mother. I pick out a cute fringed skirt that is too big for me. She picks out jeans and makes me wear them. The wolves follow me the entire way to school. They have their own rules. They are written in her schizophrenic brain.

I arrive at the doorstep of my fifth-grade class, sobbing uncontrollably. Mother stands with her wolves from afar and watches. The teacher asks why I’m wearing jeans. I want to tell her the wolves made me.

There are more cracks in the teapot.
Glue held it together.

One spring, Mother came out of the mental hospital. She had a smile on her face. The yellow daffodils begin to grow.

Sister comes to visit. She lives in another city and has a fairy godmother. Sister is beautiful and intelligent.

The cracked teapot stays together.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
The following winter, Mother takes more pills, and I wonder if the wolves are returning.

Mother runs down the street with her slip-on. She is screaming, "He's going to kill me!" Father runs after her and hollers back at me, "Go back to school!" Mother goes back to the hospital. The wolves have surrounded us.

There are more cracks in the teapot.
Glue barely held it together.

Time has passed and so have my parents.
They are buried next to each other.
Their bodies eroding.

They are safe from the wolves now.
I am the only one gnawing at the past, viewing the cracks in the teapot.

Where is my white knight?
Instead of wolves, I have two white knights: time and distance.

*
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral
That's an Irish lullaby

Nancy is a born and raised Texan who tried living in another state but got back to Texas as soon as she could. She is a Brene Brown fan, a genealogist, a lover of cats and dogs, and cares deeply about many things. It is a blessing and a curse.

She worked in the area of philanthropy for 20 years. Her bank account is small, but she has handled documents and processed payments of over a gzillion dollars.