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This Old Rocking Chair

It’s old, alright. This majestic looking rocker belonged to my great grandmother but I distinctly remember climbing all over it when my brothers and I were living with our grandparents and we were sent to the basement to play.  Way back then, it was a different color and I’m sure that it’s been recovered a number of times since. These days, it’s grey-blue, with a matching cylinder-shaped pillow and it’s made its home in our living room.  This rocker has been broken and faithfully fixed numerous times and every time our guests make their way towards it, my husband cringes because these people might be risking their lives by sitting on it – one of the days, this inviting rocker could crack and someone might come tumbling down.  Meanwhile,  I hold my breath and watch in wonder because it hasn’t disappointed me yet. It’s survived against all odds.

I love everything about this rocker.  It’s a comfortable “rock“, despite the fact that the supporting wood has been glued, stapled and nailed many times over the past hundred years. The ornate carving on the top is strangely comforting as I rest my fingers on the high back support. The swirls of wood on the armrests have been worn down  by all the stories told – I’m sure there have clenched fists, accidental scratches, happy bumps, nervous tapping of nails and sweaty palms coming into contact with these supportive rails.

I suppose that’s what makes it so intriguing to me. What has this chair “seen?” What conversations has it “heard” during its long journey within our family? I do know that it met its match with a nine year old girl who unquestionably preferred rockin’ over ‘rithmetic. I explored every facet of this chair when I was young because I was under, over and hanging off it regularly. It was a house, a castle, a bed and home plate, where I could be safe. When it rocked, it became a machine, a ship and a magical place where I could explore the world.

Come to think of it, this chair was my good friend. I trusted it when I was young and I continue to trust it now. I suppose that’s why I allow my guests to sit in it. It has supported my every move.  It oozes with tradition and memories and I’m so thankful that it’s still with me.

I don’t take it for granted…and I wonder where its next stop will be.

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