Once is Enough

"The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to."
-Dodie Smith

I sang to my mother over the telephone the other night just as she was climbing into bed. She has had to take some time off work and the lack of a routine has made her more tense.
Apparently, without meaning to, or expecting to, I soothed her so much that she had a lovely night's sleep following the impromptu recital. I have nothing that resembles a singing voice of any sort, so I was surprised by her revelation.
I was given credit for singing a lullaby but I hardly recall what I sang. Still, Mater insisted that it was calming.
Last evening she brought the subject up again and sang my praises, so to speak.
"Well," I volunteered, "would you like me to sing again tonight?"
The reply came immediately:
"No. Just once was good."
For a brief time I thought I was my mother's cure for insomnia. I was suddenly left uncertain of the role of my voice in my mother's nocturnal world.
Some things, perhaps, are better left unsung.