newborn baby brother]. Her dark-eyed sister, Nicole, lay sleeping in the[Two Beds and a Coffee Machine| twin bed], which ran crosswise at the foot of her own long, narrow [Ode to the Empty Side of My Bed|bed].
 Curled up on her side, facing the wall, with its swirls of white [Wedding cake|wedding cake] plaster, straight black hair in [You are going to need to get a big princess type dress. I CANNOT fight for the honor of someone wearing cowgirl pjs|pink rubber curlers], her older sister slept, unaware, undisturbed.\r\n\r\nSome unidentifiable [murmur] in the [Soul dancing in the dark|dark] and distant [A pot-grower's worst nightmare|garden] with its tangle of fruit trees and [Smarter than a brick?|brick] edged, [Moss Hart|moss] covered, herring [The Lovely Bones|bone] pathways, had awakened her, terrified her. She lay there shaking under her thin blanket, sobbing into the softness of a [hope is the thing with feathers|feather pillow], encased in its delicately [Embroidered fish balls|embroidered slip]. Sewn by a [grandmother] who lived far away, but dreamt of her nightly, and sent [Unstrung Beads|beaded] [moccasin|moccasins] at [Christmas] and braid ties and [ribbon|bows] for her [Gemini|birthday].\r\n\r\nA light went on in the turquoise and gray tiled, deco [Finding a bathroom in New York City|bathroom] that separated the master bedroom from the small room with its textured, white walls and large [Rear Window|picture window]. The room they called the [Bunnykins| nursery]. The warm glow from the nightlight spilled out into the room, from the [crack] beneath the door, with its crystal [sock on the door knob|doorknobs]. [A Whiter Shade of Pale|Shadows] danced menacingly across the iced walls. There was that sound again. Then the door opened, and her mother’s arms were around her. [Petting] her, smoothing her hair, brushing her tawny bangs from her forehead. Patting her on the back. Whispering ‘shh…’ into her tiny ear,\r\n“There baby, don’t cry.” \r\nShe almost sang the words, tender and somewhat \r\nout of key. Then the sound again. \r\n[Coo|“Coo-coo coo-coo], ” \r\n\"It’s just a [mourning dove] calling to his mate.”\r\n“Coo-coo coo-coo” \r\n\r\nShe had not the slightest idea what a [mourning] dove was, but she believed her, she trusted her, she had no reason not to, yet. The [child [by wordnerd]|child] stopped crying as she breathed in her mother’s [aroma|perfumed aroma] now full of the musky scent of sleep and [dreams]. Then the small body in the vastness of the twin bed, relaxed in her mother’s arms, as tears were wiped from her emerald, thick lashed eyes, first with gentle [fingertips], then the silky corner of a blue chenille [Dressing up in a chicken suit and running around the golf course|dressing] gown.\r\n\r\nThe young [mother] slipped into the narrow bed with the child, kissed away the remaining [tears], and held her tightly against her [Woman and breasts are a bad combination|breast], until she drifted off once more into the unparalleled safety of [Can I go back to sleep now?|sleep].\r\n\"Coo-coo Coo-coo\"\r\n\r\n\r\n ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\r\n\r\n\r\nYears later, lying [naked], in a spacious, [If you're not going to worship me, get the fuck out of my bed|antique, wooden bed] in a [bougainvillea]-covered [Castelli Romani|villa], in [Marvellous, I'm probably going to be eaten by a wild boar|Tuscany], the woman who grew from the child, would tell her [lover], this was her earliest [memory].\r\n\r\n\r\n
\r\n\r\n[The First Date]\r\n[My Buddha Garden]\r\n[Honey (The Christmas Bear)]\r\n[out on a limb]\r\n[It's hard to swallow with a lump in your throat]\r\n[Butterfly Catcher]\r\n[http://everything2.com/title/November+15%252C+2010#ALittleHawk|November 15, 2010]\r\n[Dance As If No One Is Watching]\r\n[Richard Sylbert]\r\n[Goya Guitar]\r\n\r\nFiction:\r\n[The Locket]\r\n[The Halloween Slumber Party]\r\n\r\nPoetry:\r\n[I Said Coffee]\r\n[Things I'll do now that he's gone]\r\n[tiny yellow flowers]\r\n[Sea, I Love the Way You Tremble]\r\n[Firenze]\r\n[Tiny Warrior]\r\n[Contingencies]\r\n[Silver Ashes]\r\n[Early Morning Haiku]\r\n[Mid-Morning Haiku]\r\n[A New Haiku]\r\n[Oh Life]\r\n[Will You Remember?]\r\n[Wild Dark Love Song]\r\n[Every Word]\r\n[http://everything2.com/title/By+morning+I+will+have+erased+all+traces+that+I+was+ever+here#ALittleHawk|All he's left me]\r\n[Memories of Japan for etouffee]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n","type":"writeup","createtime":"2010-07-12T04:22:25Z","title":"Murmur (personal)","writeuptype":"personal","node_id":2020908,"cools":[{"title":"drownzsurf","node_id":1117836,"type":"user"},{"type":"user","node_id":1153472,"title":"etouffee"}]},{"writeuptype":"definition","cools":[{"node_id":513876,"type":"user","title":"Archetype"}],"node_id":284105,"doctext":"

Mur\"mur (?), n. [F. murmure: cf. L. murmur. CF. [Murmur], v. i.]

1.

A low, confused, and indistinct sound, like that of running water.

\n\n

2.

A complaint half suppressed, or uttered in a low, muttering voice.

\n\n

Chaucer.\n\n

Some discontents there are, some idle murmurs.\nDryden.
\n\n

\n \n\n

© [Webster 1913].\n

\n

Mur\"mur, v. i. [imp. & p. p. [Murmured] (?); p. pr. & vb. n. [Murmuring].] [F. murmurer, L. murmurare, murmurari, fr. murmur murmur; cf. Gr. to roar and boil, said of water, Skr. marmara a rustling sound; prob. of imitative origin.]

1.

To make a low continued noise, like the hum of bees, a stream of water, distant waves, or the wind in a forest.

\n\n

They murmured as doth a swarm of bees.\nChaucer.
\n\n

2.

To utter complaints in a low, half-articulated voice; to feel or express dissatisfaction or discontent; to grumble; -- often with at or against.

\"His disciples murmured at it.\"\n\n

John vi. 61.\n\n

And all the children of Israel murmured against Moses and against Aaron.\nNum. xiv. 2.
\n\n

Neither murmur ye, as some of them also murmured.\n1 Cor. x. 10.
\n\n

\n \n\n

© [Webster 1913].\n

\n

Mur\"mur, v. t.

To utter or give forth in low or indistinct words or sounds; as, to murmur tales.

\n\n

Shak.\n\n

The people murmured such things concerning him.\nJohn vii. 32.
\n\n

\n \n\n

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