Childhood Memories
My grandmother had a rocking chair. I have memories of sitting in it as a little girl. It probably is the cause of my rocking chair addiction now. I can hardly walk by a rocking chair without plopping down for a spell.
After the rocking chair spent years and years at my grandmother’s home, it spent its next life at my mother’s house when my boys were little. Such pictures in my head of my mom rocking my boys when they were babies.
But now I have the chair.
The rocking chair isn’t set in any special place of honor in my house. It’s stuck in the corner of my office amid yoga mats, old manuscripts and colored pencils. Which is right where it belongs. Beckoning my boys to drop into it and sit and chat with me as they buzz in and out of town, in and out of my life. Filling me in on details. Telling me secrets. Sharing simple moments of their lives. SuperGuy comes in with his coffee in the morning and slides into the rocking chair and we chat as he slowly rocks back and forth, easing into the day.
The afghan my grandmother crocheted for me when I was a young girl rests on the back of the chair.
Doesn’t it just call out to be wrapped around your shoulders on a crisp fall morning?
Think of all the love and time that went into each of those stitches. 
I can still pictured her weathered hands, hovering over her needlework, her knitting, her crocheting. When I sat down to write this post, I thought this post was about the rocking chair, but maybe it’s about the afghan, or maybe it’s about the memories, old and new. Maybe it’s about my boys remembering this rocking chair sitting in my office, a safe place to sit down and talk to their mom.
So if you could now have just one item from your childhoood, what would it be? Do you have it?
