Rocking us to sleep

[Barrett Dorko]

The deep red of the wood reveals the cheery. It appears nearly new, and I know it has not been used much.

My Aunt Alice acquired it from an old friend, Orpha Post, it rested quietly in her various apartments until one day it disappeared into the basement of someone’s home an another county. My sister Laurel saw to it that it was returned and now it sits, again, unused in my home. This all took about 100 years.

I’m waiting; waiting for our colleagues to stop imagining that something has been revealed as true even though it certainly hasn’t. The premise itself is horribly flawed. But this idea endures like the chair my family has guarded through the generations.

A year ago my daughter had a little boy – Sam – but last night while being rocked in Orpha’s chair he fell asleep immediately.