ROCKING CHAIR IN THE CORNER
Hi, my name is Rocky, I am a chair over there in the corner. A rocker outside on the porch. In sunshine or in rain. Not particularly attractive. My wood is splintered and weathered gray from the rain and sun. The rockers are cracked and blistered with raised wood. The seat no longer supports the old man and pinches him. I seem to have reached the end of my usefulness.
I am no longer part of the family I once knew. All I have now are memories. Memories on how I came to be in this family and what I meant to them. But I am getting ahead of myself.
It came to me that my end was near when I overheard the family say, it was time to get rid of the old broken-down rocking chair.
Once, there was a time when I was a beautiful rocking chair. It was years ago when I heard the story of how I came to be.
The young son of the family went to his grandfather’s workshop with a particularly important request. The ask was if the grandfather would make a rocking chair for a special occasion. Papau, as he was known asked “What is this special occasion?”
“It is a surprise, and I would like to keep it a secret,” replied the young man.
“Well, as your grandfather, all I can say,” with a slight grin on his face, ” I will not build a rocking chair for you, but I will teach and help you build it. The chair will mean more to you and your secret if you build it.”
For months, they worked together in the old man’s workshop. The young man, picking out the finest of the woods and the most elegant of designs. They started with strong rockers and arms. A back rest capable of rocking the chair and a sturdy wide seat. At last, I was finished. The reddish color of the cedar wood with intricate carvings and a soft pad on the seat, made me a work of art. Then I was taken into a room of the house that was painted baby blue. The surprise was now evident. A baby boy was coming.
Later that day, the beautiful lady came in carrying a small bundle. It was their first child, a son. She sat down in the rocking chair and began slowly to rock the baby. It became my life, taking care of the son and the three daughters to follow. I rocked them to sleep. Helped in feeding them. Became a table for changing their diapers.
As they grew older, I became many things to this family. From the toys of their imaginations; that rocket ship or a sailboat. Or, the disciplinarian, “Go sit in Rockee.” Then I would rock their troubles away..
As the family grew, I was in either of two places: in a corner by the fireplace or on the porch, with the best view of the property
The son, now a father, would sit and rock when he needed some solitude or needed relaxation from his many trips. As a pilot he would regale us with his stories. Boy did I hear some wild stories. Especially when he was in conversation with fellow pilots or guests..The family kept me a abreast of all things important. From moments of happiness to moments of turmoil and sadness. I became an intricate part of their lives, whether they knew it or not.
Eventually as the years came and went and the family moved about, I was not used as much and found myself in the corner more times than not. Any corner that was not used inside and out. My wood finish was starting to fade, with more broken pieces and scratches, from the cats. When they moved into a new house, I was moved into a shed. I missed the house, and the dampness of the shed did nothing for my joints, which left my wood swelling and cracking. But what I missed the most was the warm feeling the home and family gave me. The time the cats and dogs used me for a refuge. When the kids read their books or later watched tv.
The old man, now a grandfather, moved me outside to the corner of the deck. He no longer takes his naps, or just sits. Cushion, long gone, arm rest not aligned and every time he rocks, it squeaks and rocks without rhythm. In his mutterings, he speaks of rebuilding the chair, but as with everything, no one listens or heeds his advice. His wife will occasionally dust me and move me from one corner wall to another.
Today, is a beautiful summer day, and the old man and I, Rockee are on the porch. The kids named me “Rockee”. A new cushion allows him the joy of a slight rocking motion while he talks to himself, uttering words that may signal his and or my demise.
Then, a voice is heard from inside the house. “Heh, Dad, are you out on the porch with Rockee” he yells.
“Over here, in the corner,” he hoarsely yells back. “What’s up?
The son walks onto the porch and sits down next to his dad. “I have a request”. as he squirms in his chair.
“What gives. Go ahead, ask me. ” asks the old man. Scratching his beard.
“What do you plan on doing with the Rockee?” he slowly asks.
“Well, it is falling to pieces, and we may use it as kindling at the next family bon fire. It has been a great rocker, and it deserves a good farewell.” replies the old man.
The son gets up and kneels next to his father.
“I was wondering if you could refinish Rockee for me, as I have a surprise coming shortly.”
The father slowly gets up from Rocky and starts walking toward his shop. He answers quietly, “Son,I will not fix or repair Rockee."
"I will help you get started, the rest is up to you. It will mean more to you and your secret, if you rebuild it.” He replied with a smirk on his face.
If I could have jumped for joy, I would have.” Instead, I started to rock. Faster and faster. Until I tipped over on my side. Lying there I felt a warmness come over me. The old man, called Papau, came over, picked me up and carried me into his workshop.
Fate moves mysteriously…..Hopefully, I no longer I will be just a “Rocking Chair in the Corner”..