At some point during your first night home you had a little fussy spell. You had just eaten, Mom was exhausted and you couldn't sleep. I walked you a bit and then remembered that the rocking chair was down at the foot of the steps. It hadn't yet made it up to the bedroom. Down we went and just as soon as I sat down and relaxed my back against the chair you were asleep, but I stayed there for a while with you - rocking. Rocking chairs were made for babies. The arm rests are at just the right height for nursing and the rythmic motion quiets both Mom and child. It always amazes me how I automatically start to rock and how long I can keep it up without tiring.This chair belonged to my grandmother, your great-great grandmother, Jane. I remember it in the corner of her bedroom surrounded by windows that looked out onto the large yard with the apple trees. I used to love to sit there and read her magazines and MaryKnoll tracts, or listen to my radio (it was a transitor radio - you'll have no idea what that is). She always had lilac water and talc on her dresser.
I guess she realized how much I enjoyed it because she left it to me. My mother went over to her house an rescued it for me after she died. I never took it with me to Venezuela. It stayed in my mother's room in Barnegat Light. I always wanted your mother to have it for her babies, and now she does.
So we sat and rocked for almost an hour you and I, in a hundred year old chair, in communion with great-great grandma Jane, great grandma Catherine and your mother.
Nothing relaxes like a rocking chair.
Now it's up in the bedroom where your Mom can use it to nurse and rock you. Blessings on you from all those who have rocked before.
P.S. The afghan over the back of the chair is one my mother made. I have several of her afghans waiting to be handed down.
