I cannot begin to describe the annoyance the creaking sound of this rocker makes. Nervewracking, really. No matter how tempted I am to involuntarily rock once my body relaxes in a rocker, I cannot force myself to do it in this one. This rocker is not pretty. No one in the house claims it as his favorite. But the sounds that come from it come with love.
I sit and read to my littles in this chair, as many have done along the way. As a child, I loved to twirl this rocker around in circles, knowing that my grandmother was going to get on to me-and good . Many children have read and been read to in this chair. My own children try to twirl it, but not so much anymore as it won't give much.
This chair is upholstered in a itchy wool plaid fabric. Itchiness worsening with age. So, I happened upon some heavy duty denim and did my own job of recovering it so as to recover the lovely moments with my little blessings as it had given others.
There are chips, scrapes, scratches and the crookity-ness when it even tries to rock. This is no sight to behold.
But,
The infants rocked in this chair....more than two handfuls, I believe...and entire generation.
The stories read in this chair.....classics repeated over and again.
The fabric of this chair.....handpicked to please the one who loved greatly from its fibers
The arms of this chair wrap my grandmother's love around me gently once again.
The rhythms of this chair rocking soothe like the beating of a mother's heart next to her baby's chest.
The sounds that come from this chair......love well.