How I Find Myself Every Single Day

What’s something you believe everyone should know.

Sitting here at 5:30 am inside MY sewing room on the rocking chair received from mother’s house after she died. The chair is old; possibly from the early 1900’s. It is my belief it was from my aunt (her sister) who passed also. My memory can see my grandfather (Mom’s father) sitting in this chair rocking away in the kitchen. I also think he had the stroke which he died from sitting in this chair. The chair feels love. It is old and in great need of restoration. I fixed the springs but they should be properly tied in place. I am studying up on how to do this project myself. TBD

It was his death which changed everything in my 9 year old world. As a child I remember this grandfather and grandmother bringing many gifts year round! Christmases were filled with gifts. When we went for Christmas dinner there would be the biggest pile of wrapped gifts each with a name on it. My family had all 6 kids during this moment in time. It was in the following years when I learned how cruel life is.

Once he died the pile ceased to be. Yet I’m in HIS rocking chair! This is the gift I love the most. The chair was sitting in my mother’s porch. When I saw it I wanted it. But as with every item remaining from mother’s belongings it was supposed to be taken by my hoarder sister. Her house is filled to the ceiling with crap she feels belong to her….. street finds of broken discarded junk. Somehow she finds comfort in keeping it all close to her wounded inner child. This chair would have been placed into a storage trailer on her property remaining unused.

It’s the rocking I adore as I spend the early mornings. My husband is still asleep. The sun has not even shown itself. It’s the quiet peace of early mornings where I sit and sway in this chair…. Movement…. Gently rocking back and forth in a chair with memories brings my heart such joy and happiness. The chair has a very different rocking mechanism of motion. The gentle sway comes from the rounded wood gently swaying as it moves back and forth. Can feel the memories of my childhood before the world began to show how destruction works. Never silence a little girl who refuses to stay inside the box of blame?

I will never remain silent. Hear my roar?