I was reminded this week that we grow attached to things.I was reminded of this because of this little red maple rocker. It is quite old. From the 1950's. Scratched , yet sturdy. Dusty, in need of some care. So I took it outside, into the sun. To polish it's arms and legs. The neighbours' cat, Smokey, kept watch.
Then I remembered that my grandmother sat in this very same rocking chair. I only have the photographs. I never met her. She was blind by the 50's. Years of copper treatments gone bad. She would sit for hours, outside with my dad and the dog. She would rock on the grass. And the dog would look on. Like Smokey.
It is an unremarkable little rocker. It has a squeak. Yet the rocker carries a huge history. How many times had it sat outside. In the sun. And rocked. Today it drank in the Murphy's oil and entertained the cats. Spencer came. And he watched.
Robert Frost said "We love the things we love for what they are." For the memories.
For the people who have been attached.
Worn on the edges, from about 60 years of use. I would never refurnish it. Never touch it. Because where it is worn, is where many hands have touched. The edges gone smooth by hands resting.
My grandparents. My parents. And myself. We've all sat in that little rocker.
It's been loved and cherished all these years. And the cats. Like the dog in the photo, still keep watch.
The finish worn down by the warmth of hands.
The cats peacefully watched me clean and polish that little maple rocker till it gleamed in the sun.
Reminded me that years ago they sat outside. And rocked. Read the paper. Simple things.
"When I'm 80, and sitting in a rocking chair, listening to the rolling Stones,
....there is no way I'm going to feel old............no way at all....
..........or forget my younger days." (Patty Duke) . I still remember the days my dad was alive and he rocked me in this little red maple chair. And it would squeak. And squeak. It still squeaks today. And I still remember......
Spencer on the gate
