I felt kind of badly about the mediocre “Rocking Chair” picture I used yesterday for my “R” post. I love this rocking chair and it deserved better. I bought it for myself when I was in college–the very first piece of furniture I ever bought. And don’t think the symbolism escaped me–it was right around the time I took up knitting, and my Dad in particular was forever teasing me about being a grandma, knitting in my rocking chair.

This, of course, was before my mother became a grandma and he was no longer able to make those kinds of jokes (grin).

But that didn’t matter. I love this chair. It sat in the corner of my bedroom for years, and I spent hours and hours sitting here, reading, or sewing, or talking on the phone. It’s a beautiful chair, made of cherry wood, smooth and comfortable.

It lives, now, in the office/library because it doesn’t really “fit” anywhere else anymore. Both Mom and I prefer cleaner, more modern lines to our furniture–nothing too “fussy”–but still. I love this chair. It’s clean and classic, with just enough detail, but not so much that I look at it now and think, “Oh.”

(Have I said it enough? Because I really do love it.)

First, it was replaced by the white loveseat/chair that was comfy enough for me and Jilly to sit on together. You’ve seen that one many times, slip-covered now, but Chappy’s favorite place to sit. Then four years ago, that was moved down to the dining room, and I got my new, red chair (which you also saw yesterday). The rocking chair has been trying to find its own spot ever since, and has thus, yes, ended up in the corner of the office. I’ll sit it in now and again while browsing for a book, but mostly. . . it sits there, still. Kind of sad (and dusty), really.

I always kept my afghan draped over it, rather than use a cushion. The cushions, which I did try, were always too think and raised me up too high to comfortably rest my elbows on the arms of the chair. But the afghan? Perfect.

Not least of which because my grandmother made it for me. True, it’s crocheted in acrylic yarn, in rather bright pinks and greens (seen better in yesterday’s photo)–which was ironic, because when she started making it for me, my bedroom was yellow.

The point, though, is that my grandmother made this, just for me. It’s the only knitted/crocheted item that anyone has ever made for me, at least since childhood. She had been determined to make one for each of her two sons, her five grandchildren, and her (at the time) two great-grandchildren. As I recall, she had planned on leaving them to us in her will, but decided, instead, to give them as gifts at what was to be her last Christmas, in 1984. She wasn’t up to doing Christmas shopping that year, anyway, and this way she got to see our faces as we opened the boxes. Much better, don’t you think?

Really, that’s it for today. A little chair reminiscence. I’ve been fighting a bad headache (not a migraine, but a throbbing, light-sensitive headache nonetheless) all afternoon, and so . . . this is it for now. (You don’t suppose the 2,009 pages worth of reading I did this weekend could have contributed to the headach, do you? You know, in addition to spinning those cashmere/silk singles? Naaahh . . .I didn’t think so, either.)

Although, frankly, sitting in my rocking chair, curled up in Grandma’s afghan sounds pretty appealing . . . The only drawback? There’s no room for Chappy . . .

And, if you haven’t yet–go visit Carole, would you? She had a sad weekend….

Amanda, too….

• Tags: Family, General • Permalink:Rocking //