When my daughters were small I’d make up stories to tell them at bedtime.  I tried to read books early on, but often fell asleep well before they did. So to keep myself awake, I’d freeform elaborate stories to keep myself awake, lull them to sleep and take us away…

I say us … because depending on my audience I’d tailor them to include fatherly messages of life, love and themes of happiness.

In the beginning they included simple things like fairy princesses, lands made of their favorite candies and magic….

Each tale began with the words ….Once upon a time…a long, long, long, long, long (bending in to lick their faces) time ago…  in a place far, far, far, FART away (this always gets a laugh) there was a girl named ….

Our bedtime stories twisted and turned according to the interest and or excitement levels of each girl always ending in a happy place with cries for more, more more. However, once any story ended,  it could never be told the same ever again…at least not by me … It’s not that I didn’t want or didn’t try …..its because each tale swept through us like a warm chill…from head to toe and then whispered away.

Over the years the tales grew longer and gained complexity…. using local homes, historical sites and local legend to anchor and enhance the plots…

Towards the end I created a series that chronicled the life of an Irish girl named Maeve.  In Gaelic, Maeve means “she who intoxicates”  which seemed to be a fitting name for a subject who’s adventures would lull their imagination into dream like states.

Maeve lived during the 1800’s in what is known today as the Lord Timothy Dexter House in Newburyport Massachusetts.  Her bedroom was on the third floor, center, just above the front door.  Inside her bedroom she discovered a hidden panel that lead behind the bookcase wall.  Once behind the wall she found a secret spiral staircase that lead to the widow’s walk atop the house. This became Maeve’s secret writing place…

High atop the majestic mansion, Maeve chronicled  her life story in numbered black leather bound diaries….  Each diary held 10 chapters and she completed 13 diaries in all. I created one full chapter each night which became a motivation to get ready for bed. Through Maeve’s eyes.. my daughter learned life lessons such as right from wrong, standing up for oneself and the consequence of childhood misadventures…..

I’d give anything to have the Maeve stories back again but like all those before the came and went along with the day. Recently, I began to stitch together a Maeve’s tale for my granddaughter Maya. I felt for the 1st time in a very long time that presence of the story muse… She was close by…as the story begun… I could see that look of wonder in Maya’s eyes… we were launching upward….just about to lift off together…when… a voice called and like the slamming of a hardback cover the story ended. “Come on Maya, it time to go home now” …

Maya turned before leaving that day and ask… GrampaDon…and what happened then? I smiled and said the only thing I knew for sure… I don’t know.. we’ll have to see honey.

Until I see you again……I Love you