a/n - i’ve decided on a universe name! so i just made a little prologue blurb. i’ve always loved this song and i thought it was kind of perfect. and the picture is not meant to be face claims, just an idea, and tumblr flagged the one i wanted for literally no reason :D also, a dana reaction is on my todo list! <3
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If I was a flower growing wild and free,
All I’d want is you to be my sweet honeybee
And if I was a tree growing tall and green,
All I’d want is you to shade me and be my leaves
It was something you used to sing to your sisters when you were all just kids. It was on a tape your parents found at the thrift store, a mostly thoughtless purchase, but you’d grown to love it.
When you were four, and your parents sat you down and handed you your first baby sister, you’d been entranced. She, on the other hand, was less than thrilled. She burst into tears immediately, angry at being taken away from the warmth of her mother, who swooped in and took her back at once. Startled, you had started to cry too, and you were heaved into your father’s arms.
As you and your sister were swayed back and forth, your eyes locked onto her scrunched up little face on your mothers shoulders. Sniffling, you started to sing. For her, and for you.
If I was a flower growing wild and free,
All I’d want is you to be my sweet honeybee
And if I was a tree growing tall and green,
All I’d want is you to shade me and be my leaves
As you sang, in your broken, teary voice, your sister began to settle.
From that point on, that was the song. Your parents sang it to you when you had a nightmare, you sang it to your sister when she was colicky, you sang it to yourself in the bath. You didn’t grow up to be an amazing singer, but you could carry a tune.
It worked just as well when the third girl came along. You were singing it before you knew how to read, before you knew what the lyrics meant.
You used it less as the years wore on. You outgrew it, you would say, as you did about so many things. Still, when the family cat died, that was what you did as the three of you huddled into one bed, weeping together. When you had your first break up, they sang to you. It was included in the teary goodbyes as you went off to college.
If you were a river in the mountains tall,
The rumble of your water would be my call
If you were the winter, I know I’d be the snow
Just as long as you were with me when the cold winds blow
It was undeniably comforting. The melody was in your skin. The words sat in your bones.
When you left your childhood home, and then the state, that’s when it really lost a place in your life. You were busy with your career, your sisters were busy with their own lives, and there was nothing much to trigger it anymore.
By the time you married Michael, you had all but forgotten it. It was nothing more than a relic of a simpler time. Nice, but no longer with much of a purpose.
So you surprised even yourself the day you started humming it.
You were about 25 weeks along in your pregnancy, sitting with your husband in the nursery. He was building the second crib of two, while you organized onesies. You hadn’t realized you were doing it until you felt his inquisitive gaze on you.
All I want is you, will you be my bride?
Take me by the hand and stand by my side
All I want is you, will you stay with me?
Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea
“What’s that?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“That… little tune you were just singing,” he said.
You blinked.
“Oh,” you said, topping off a bin of newborn clothes and pulling the next towards you. “An old kid’s song I used to sing, with my sisters.”
Robby smiled, all gooey.
“It’s sweet,” he said. “You have a nice voice.”
You tried to contain your smile.
“Whatever,” you muttered, throwing a tiny shoe at his head. “Keep working over there. At this rate, there won’t be a dresser to put all these clothes in.”
He just chuckled. You turned back to the laundry, biting your lip. You kept singing.
You played the real song for him that night. It was a blast from the past you didn’t expect to send you into tears. You blamed the hormones, when Robby held you close with worry, but something deeper inside of you stirred.
It was that rush of nostalgia you’d get every so often. An ache, bone deep, for something you once took for granted. You hadn’t been a child in decades, but those memories seldom faded completely. You could still feel what it felt like, to hold your new baby sister, to make up stories on the playground, all the Halloweens, all the big moments. You remembered wanting nothing more than to grow up. Now you were grown, and you longed for just one more day that carefree.
You wanted your girls to have everything you’d had and more. The long summer days that felt never ending, running barefoot through warm grass, jumping in the pool. Snow days, where you wake up in a magically transformed winter wonderland. Bike riding, snowmen, reading, bickering, first days of school.
As you cried, half grief for the era of your life you could never return to, have joy for all that was ahead of you, you clutched your belly and sang.
If you were a wink, I’d be a nod
If you were a seed, well, I’d be a pod
If you were a floor, I’d wanna be the rug
And if you were a kiss, I know I’d be a hug
All I want is you, will you be my bride?
Take me by the hand and stand by my side
All I want is you, will you stay with me?
Hold me in your arms and sway me like the sea
Robby learned the words, just to sing to your bump late at night. You loved hearing such a familiar song, new in his scratchy, warm voice. His rendition never got quite as many kicks as yours, but the babies were a good audience.
“You’ll never believe what we’ve been singing to the babies,” you told your sisters over the phone as you drove into work one day. “All I want is you, will you be my bride…”
“Take me by the hand and stand by my side,” they finished instantly, voices staticky and overlapping on the line. “Of course!”
You smiled widely. The song was still yours, after all the years. And now, it would be kept alive by your girls.
At your baby shower, which you insisted you didn’t need, they nearly sent you over the edge with a custom painting — a field of flowers, swarming with little honeybees. Robby had to explain to your friends the reason behind the tears. You had him hang it over the rocking chair before you allowed any more gifts.
It remained your favorite piece, as the rest of the nursery came together. At night when the girls were keeping you up and you didn’t want to disturb Robby, you’d rock in the chair and stare up at it, whispering the lyrics under your breath. He’d found you there more than once. He never was able to sleep well without you, but he didn’t dare wake you when he discovered you. He’d just drape a blanket over you and kiss your temple.
When the girls were born, it was that same melody that lulled them into sleep, close enough to feel each other's heat.
Leah Raeder, Black Iris ¤ Johanna Goldenberg, The Sharp Edge of Seashells ¤ Louise Glück, "Descending Figure" ¤ Hamilton ¤ The Virgin Suicides, Sofia Coppola ¤ Drinking Sisters, Nick Alm
