The Rocking Chair That Wasn’t A Rocking Chair

Day 126 (Written Monday April 16) ~ I thought of something tonight that I hadn’t thought of in many, many years. It’s one of those things that quietly buried itself in my mind and waited for just the right moment to make its appearance. While at a friends house for dinner, I was sitting in an old rocking chair that belonged to his grandfather. When he spoke the words rocking chair and grandfather in the same sentence, it was like a secret password unlocking a long forgotten memory. My Big Mamma (maternal grandmother) raised eleven children of her own, dozens of neighborhood kids and over fifty grandchildren. The woman knew how to take care of a baby and loved to do so more than anything. One of her specialties was rocking little ones to sleep. It wasn’t that she did this which was so interesting, it was how she did this that was unique. She rocked us all to sleep, but she didn’t use a rocking chair. The chair she used was a four legged, wicker bottom, wooden chair with a thin homemade cushion. I both witnessed her rocking children in this chair and experienced it myself. This chair was magic! Many a fussy, stubborn or colicy child was put sound asleep by the creak and bump motion of that chair. Sitting there tonight I could practically feel that repetitive bump as she rocked me to sleep. All these many years later, just the thought of this process is instantly soothing. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go rock myself to sleep.