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  • Writer's pictureLuke DeRoy

Time In A Bottle

Updated: May 9, 2019

Roland is three months old last Friday, and he's changed so much already since Dayna and I pushed and pulled him (respectively) out into the world on January 26th. Our first moments together, seeing our newest little member's little member, looking into each others' tear-filled eyes, as it dawns on us: we have a son; these are memories that will never lose their meaning. In the flicker of days since and leading up to that moment, I have been able to think about very little but the preciousness of each moment, and the depth of our ability to appreciate these times that are so beautiful, they are to happen once and then never again.


He smiles, and his astonishment morphing into a beautiful mix of recognition and happiness is too unpredictable and momentary to capture in photograph. I have always dealt with my emotion by writing songs. Lately, he has wanted our whole attention, and it has been difficult (impossible) for me to write on my guitar in the way that I am used to. I have just enough time to have a little fun fiddling before I'm summoned in some way. This blog is the product of my need to express myself, and, in perfect 21st century fashion, worked around my exact schedule and there for me anytime I find a moment to myself.


I find myself writing maybe more than ever before. Whereas I used to have sessions on piano or guitar, I now work almost only in short bursts. My workflow as a songwriter occurs as long periods of time (alone); time during which I would hate to be disturbed at the risk of disrupting a moment of vision (heaven forbid). The lack of consistency in my personal work routine has led to my relying far more on writing in a journal, or typing, which like reading a book or doing a crossword, allows me to pick up right where I left off - several hours before, so I may get another three letters down.



Lucky for us, Roland is sleeping well. I'll walk with him around the stair column in our house, saying prayers and singing (You Are My Sunshine, Sun Goes Down) until he calms down and closes his eyes, then I'll set him down in a swing or bassinet and pray a little more. Sometimes the prayers go unanswered and his eyes shoot right back open. It was frustrating at first, not knowing what was wrong, but more often than not he's just tired, just too excited to sleep. It took a little while to figure out how to make it happen, but I've found that if hold him to my chest, facing me, with his left ear in the crevice of my right arm, his legs tight under my left arm, and his left arm trapped under my right, and then I hold his free little right wrist between the middle and ring fingers of my right hand, he will be unable to move, no matter how hard he struggles, like checkmate, and will eventually fall asleep. I have to do something repetitive with my legs (walking, bouncing, etc.), while holding him perfectly still with my upper body in a relaxed but tight way, not moving a muscle unless he tries to fuss, at which point I squeeze him, not unlike the Devil's Snare that Harry and his friends encounter when trying to enter the Chamber of Secrets. Once he's asleep, he is set down with the blanket his great-grandmother made him, or the one in this photo from his Aunt Deb and Uncle John in North Carolina, who he can't wait to meet.



He changes every day, and grows like a weed. The healthy boy has certainly blown through a thousand diapers and drinks more milk nightly than Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. James Roland DeRoy is blessed to have such warm, deep love surrounding him. We are blessed to have him. He loves to travel and is super excited to make new friends and meet the rest of his family. Until then, and for those of you who don't get to see him often enough, I will keep tabs for you (that's you, Tabs). Thank you to all of you for your love and support, for checking in, and for helping us make it home, wherever we may roam.


And for good measure, here's one more. Sorry, Roland.


All our love,

L, D, & R



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