This rocking chair has been in our family

Since long before I could even remember,

Its wood worn smooth by countless hands,

And yet it still stands tall,

A testament to the love that binds us all.

 

It was my mother who first held me,

Rocking gently back and forth,

Her warm breath on my head,

Her soft humming filling my thoughts,

As we rocked together through the night.

 

Time passed, and I became a child,

Fighting with my siblings for a turn,

Rocking ourselves higher and higher,

Laughing and squealing in delight,

Our joyous memories intertwined with every creak and sway.

 

The chair moved with us,

Through our youth and young adulthood,

A constant in our lives,

A place of comfort and peace,

No matter how much we grew.

 

Now, as I look at it in the attic,

Its faded paint and missing knobs,

I know I must bring it back downstairs,

To where it belongs,

Where it can once again be a part of our lives.

 

With tender care, I'll dust it off,

And polish it until it shines,

Replacing its missing parts,

And restoring it to its former glory.

 

And when I do, I know that it will be,

As if my mother's love were here with me,

Rocking me gently, just as she did before,

Through all the joys and sorrows of life's endless chore.

 

So I will bring down this rocking chair,

And place it back where it was meant to be,

A symbol of our family's love and strength,

That will endure through the years,

Just as it has since the very start.