the crib

By anyone else's standards, it's a simple, nondescript, outdated crib. The Crib has "lived" in 3 states, 4 homes, and has been taken apart and put back together more than once.

It started out in the upstairs loft of our tiny rental home, just across the landing from our bedroom. It was the haven of rest for our first boy for well over two years.

Soon after its first occupant moved on, The Crib became the lodging place for our 2nd son. It had been moved from the loft of our rental home, to the nursery of the first home we purchased.

Another state and another house later, The Crib was put together again, this time to house our 3rd son. It was still sturdy and well able to enclose and protect another child.

Once the 3rd son had graduated to a big bed, The Crib was taken apart, its nuts and bolts placed in a plastic bag. And it has sat for many, many years: first in an attic gathering dust, then in an unfinished basement absorbing moisture. I always knew it wasn't an option to get rid of this piece of furniture where all our boys had their beginnings. What I didn't know was that it would be the dwelling of a 4th child, this time a sweet girl.

Husband claimed he didn't think The Crib could be put back togehter. Surely we didn't have all its parts. I said we'd try. He said that our daughter needed a beautiful new crib..... he'd even gone into a Baby's R Us store while away on a business trip, and had looked at lovely baby furniture. I said "No, thank you. She must sleep in The Crib." The IKEA store came to our area: another opportunity for Husband to purchase a new crib. I politely declined. A friend has offered me a beautiful crib that one of her daughters slept in for just a year. It is much prettier than The Crib, much newer, much more stylish. And it probably doesn't have teeth marks in the wood and extra holes drilled into its legs so that the mattress can be dropped, in an effort to keep a little one inside.

Even I can't quite seem to grasp why our daughter must sleep in The Crib. Maybe it's because in my heart, I feel like that worn piece of furniture has been annointed with the love of three brothers. Maybe it's because I want to hum to her at its side, her head rested drowsily on my shoulder. And maybe it's because I'm just plain sentimental. It turns out that all the parts were found, and in fact, The Crib was able to be put back together. So after a coat of primer and new paint, The Crib stands yet again, in all its simple and much-used glory. And it waits for Occupant Number Four. May she place her special mark on it, feel comforted by its embrace, and have many months of restful sleep, there.