Her stories reminded me of my stories.
Once upon a time there was a little girl, maybe three, who had visited her grandparents. She sat in her grandmother's rocking chair, and rocked and rocked and rocked.
And lo, it was good.
It was so good that when the little girl got back home all she could think of was that lovely rocking chair. Being a resourceful child, she went to her piggy bank, emptied out two pennies and headed to town to buy a rocking chair of her very own.
She didn't get too far before the police discovered her in the middle of the street and pulled her to safety. It was about the same time that her mother came frantically searching for her. I don't believe that I actually remember that part, but family legend has it that there was a severe whupping involved. To quote my mother, I got one lick for every step towards home that I took.
When my grandparents heard this story, a large box was delivered to our house. This part I do remember. In that box were two rocking chairs. One was for me, the other for my sister.
This is that chair. It's now over 50 years old, and each of my own have rocked in it, and now my little William rocks in it.
When Tim's mother saw the little chair, she recollected that Tim's little rocking chair was tucked away in the attic. This was retrieved and brought to our house. This is HIS 50 year old chair.
The bear sitting on it actually belonged to my father. It was not his when he was a little boy. My brother in law's sister gave it to him for some reason. Now it lives with me.
This is my mother's rocking chair. It is not ancient. I don't imagine that it is much over 30 years old. It's a nice place to sit and rock and ponder things. My fanny fits much more comfortably in this than either of the first two rockers. If you are Australian, you are sniggering in a most unbecoming way this very second.
This is a gratuituous William shot. "Ca-Wa" bought him a candy pacifier for Easter. It made a cute picture, but he wasn't all that excited about it, turns out. It was swapped out for the bink he has in his right hand in fairly short order.
But that chair he's sitting in? Doesn't it match nicely with the sofa?You can't really tell from the picture, but the light portion of the leaves and the chair match perfectly.
Perfectly I tell you.
I am making much of this because it appears to be its only redeeming grace.
I don't mind it, but everyone else has decided that it is deucedly uncomfortable.
Now, I realize that this has turned out to be The Story of the Four Chairs (and a sofa), but I have never been a person who knows when to end a story.