Rockabye

Her tapping toes sent a creak through the rocking chair. It was an heirloom, a treasure held together by polish and the will of those who rested upon its weathered wood.

She closed her eyes and thought about the first time she’d sat there. It seemed so big then. Awkward, bulky, she felt like a jockey trying to saddle a brontosaurus. Still, she managed the mount and marveled at how far her toes were from the floor. Climbing down usually ended with a thud and bruised bottom, but she didn’t mind the little pains. Never did.

Melting ice shifted in her glass. Summer was a wonderful time for sitting. Spring was better; not as hot, but summer was fine too. A breeze lifted her to April then fell away. The reality of July crept back slowly, sweating the glass.

She wiped her brow and refolded her handkerchief. She pulled a fan from her apron and waved it as fast as arthritic hands could. She looked to the heavens, sighed, and turned back to her toes. They tapped rhythmically, sending a sway through her lace-lined ankle socks. They were pink with white ruffles. How pretty she was when she was ten.

In her mind she was dancing, the school-play, the recital. They were just memories now, but as vivid as yesterday’s rain. She could still feel the rose petals soft against her cheek. They were cool and tender. Her father missed work on occasion to watch her dance and she loved him for it.

Teenage boys ran through her mind, her yard, her door. She heard a knock and smiled at the memory of bad boys pretending to be good in an attempt to impress her father. They never fooled him, but a few managed to steal a kiss or two on the porch.

One got further of course, stealing her heart, her hand, and her innocence on the night of the big dance. Sure it was in the back of his father’s Ford, but he brought flowers, kissed her hand, and opened doors even after the deed was done. He called too, just like he said he would. She smiled at the thought of playful nights on the porch, necking, dreaming, planning out a lifetime. He proposed as she rocked away in that chair, sliding his grandmother’s ring onto her finger.

Children came, two boys and a girl. They’re grown now with families and memories and children all their own. They visit often, bringing flowers and drawings and hearts full of joy. She treasured the hugs her grandchildren gave. She’d watch them play in the yard as their worried parents went on about some poor old bird that lost her marbles. There’s talk now of doctors, medicine, and a home that isn’t quite hers – a sad thing to be cast aside.

Her tapping tried to drown out the thought of a girl past her prime. Soon she was dancing again, but only for a moment….