I don’t remember how it is that I came to have this little rocking loveseat. I mean I always loved it, but it sat in my father’s den when I was a kid. It was a little out of the way, and I can’t say that I ever sat in it much, but I loved it. The small size just fit, and it rocked, I loved that. When my mother was downsizing after my father died I vaguely remember that we borrowed a truck and Charley helped me get a few of my mother’s treasures and bring them home to Maryland with us, and this was one of them. It’s completely threadbare now, which is why those throws are covering it. Not only threadbare, but whatever foam was padding this chair has long since disintegrated. That is probably due to my daughter’s kids. By the time it had migrated to her house it was already over 30 years old, and the wear and tear the my two oldest grandchildren put on it took a toll. But that was probably the first time that little chair felt loved. I remember that my daughter used to lay infant Kara on it, and Kevin would rock her gently to sleep. When they moved I reclaimed it, and I’ve had it ever since. It lived in my little upstairs den a few years later. Kevin looked around that room, he was sitting on the loveseat at the time, and he told me that it was a very nice room. I don’t know if I ever was so touched to get a compliment as I was to get that one. Maybe it’s that it’s small. That may be what appealed to me about it when I was a kid also. The room would look better with a bigger chair there, it would look more balanced. But sitting in it now feels like a hug from an old friend, and I love old friends…
A Snowbird's Life Through the Lens 