The Rocking Chair by Ronald Zaremba

Rocking Chair

by Ronald Zaremba

“Oh my!” Abby looked up from planting flowers to see an old woman trip and fall against the large maple tree near the street in front of her house. Abby got up and ran over to her. “Are you all right? I told my Dad about this walkway.” “Dear child at my age you can trip over the smallest crack,” the old woman said.

“Please come and sit on the porch and rest a while.”

“I would like that very much.” Abby held her arm going up the steps and on to the porch. Even though it was ninety degrees the old woman felt ice cold to the touch. Her skin was smooth and supple without any age blemishes. Abby helped her to a rocking chair. “Would you like a glass of water?” “In a bit my dear, please sit with me.” Abby sat down beside the frail woman and held her cold hand rubbing it gently trying to warm it. “What’s your name child?” “Abby.” “That’s a very pretty name.” “I think I was named for my great grandmother.”

The old woman nodded and rocked gently back and forth for a few minutes in silence as she looked around. “You know, I once had a porch like this and a rocking chair. My rocking chair was red. It was one of a kind, even though it looked like those sitting in front of a Cracker Barrel. It was hand made by my father.” “My Dad made these chairs. It took him almost a year and I think he went through a forest worth of trees.”

The old woman laughed. Then she moved her hands along the armrests and inspected the rest of the chair. “Yes, I can tell. Each piece was carefully cut, planed, sanded and fitted together by caring hands. I prized mine above my diamond engagement ring.” A light breeze played with the wind chimes hanging from the corner of the porch. The old woman glanced up and delighted in the happy commotion. After a minutes distraction she leaned back in her chair and recalled a time filled with bitter-sweet memories.

“At first I didn’t have a lot of time to sit in it, just stolen moments at the end of a busy day.” She looked down at the rocking chair and rubbed her fingers back and forth on the arm rests. “As my children grew up, they spent more time away from home, my rocking chair became more of an old friend. I would finish my household chores by early afternoon and would go out to the porch and sit in my chair embraced by its comforting arms. As the world turned colder and dear friends departed, I would turn to my rocker for warmth and safety. Oh Tom, my husband, was there every step of the way both good and bad. But that rocking chair was a place where I could search my inner most feelings without being judged or given a second thought of advice from a caring but not fully

understanding husband or friend.” She turned to Abby and pointed a thin finger at her. “My dear, you will understand this over time.” Abby pursed her lips. Her eyes opened wide. She was spellbound by the old woman’s voice. It was soft in tone and warmth but had the calm confidence of authority. “Over the years I would defend my rocking chair from malicious predators.” “Malicious predators? Who would want to hurt your rocking chair?” “Well, one day for some bizarre reason Clementine, the neighbor’s dog, came onto my porch and started chewing on one of the legs of my rocker. When I saw what was happening through the window, I rushed out there with my broom and started swinging with such ferocity I knocked that dog into next week. That critter never again set a paw in my yard, not even to chase squirrels up that ancient maple tree growing next to my porch.” Abby laughed. “That poor dog. Our neighbor has a dog like that. When I catch her digging in my plant beds, I give her a little squirt with the hose. She sort of runs away. She is a good dog.” The old woman nodded. “Good, that’s a start.” She reached over and squeezed Abby’s hand and continued. “There was this slick salesman that tried to get me to buy life insurance. He passed an off the cuff comment about my chair trying to make a sales point. The only thing it got him was my stern invitation to leave before I returned with my husband’s shotgun. I would have loaded that guy’s ass up with birdshot had he not made a strategic turnabout and ran as fast as he could for his car.”

“You’re one tough woman.” “You must be tough to thrive in this world.” “Would you like a glass of water now?” “In a little while my dear.” They sat in silence, just rocking back and forth for a few more minutes. The old woman turned to Abby and smiled. “You have pretty blue eyes.” “Thank you, My Dad’s eyes are blue too. It runs in the family.” “Yes it does.” The old woman turned and looked straight ahead and seemed to focus on something far-away, “Every Fourth of July, Tom and I would host a gathering for family and friends. At twilight, after a day of gossip, delicious food, games and the inevitable squabbles, everyone would take up positions on and around the porch. I would sit in my rocking chair and Tom would sit next to me smoking his pipe. We would watch the fireworks display being put on in the field across the way. One Fourth of July the fireworks occurred on the porch.” “Really,” Abby said. “Fireworks on the porch. I hope no one got burnt.” The old woman rolled her eyes, touched Abby’s cheek and smiled. “Cousin Thelma and her family showed up as usual like a plague of locusts. The kids would devour everything in sight and Thelma and Tony would guzzle enough beer to drain a brewery. This one particular year Thelma started spouting off about her new dining room set and how it was made of the finest maple and the chair armrests were ornately hand carved and polished to perfection. I said it sounded nice and wished her luck with it but preferred the plane curve style like my rocking chair. Well, one thing led to another and in a drunken rage Thelma poured her beer all over my chair and spit on it too. I was in no mood to take guff from that moose, so I slapped her in the face to get her undivided attention. Then I decked her with a roundhouse that sent her tumbling off the porch into my rose bushes.” The old woman’s face brightened with a look of satisfaction. “They said you could hear her screams all the way on the other end of the county. On the positive side,

Thelma had her jaw wired shut for three months, giving Tony some relief. And they never came back for another 4 th of July. On the negative side my rose bushes suffered horribly.” “You are such a delicate woman. I find it hard to believe that you would hit someone.” The old woman turned and peered into Abby’s eyes. “Sometimes looks are deceiving, as you will find out my dear.” Abby felt an odd coolness come over her. The old woman continued, “As my chair weathered from the elements so my heart weathered from life. There was the time Jimmy, my youngest, skinned his knees in a terrible fall off his bike when he was five. I sat him in my lap and held him rocking back and forth for what seemed an eternity. I wanted to stop time. I had a premonition about my baby and wanted to savor those fleeting moments.” She paused for a moment as her eyes became glassy and her throat tightened. “Fourteen years later, on a raw day in February, I sat silently in my chair methodically rocking back and forth immersed in unbearable grief. I clutched a tri-folded American flag in my lap, slowly reliving the events of my Jimmy’s short life.” “Oh ma’am, I am so sorry. My Dad had an uncle killed in a war. My Dad said his uncle was killed before he was born.”

The old woman clutched Abby’s hands. “I know my child. My heart is in tatters. Your Dad was deprived of a beautiful life. Now listen to me carefully. Remember, you need a place of refuge, a place of solitude, a place where you can regroup your thoughts, and draw comfort and strength. You need a place where you can get a respite from all the daily nit-picking of loved ones and others. This special place can be anywhere, even in plain sight. Life is merciless especially to the weak.” Abby sat back in her chair with her eyes wide open. She felt a new state of awareness wash over her. The breeze stopped. The wind chimes quieted. The only sound, a rhythmic clonk, clonk, clonk, clonk, came from the rails of the rockers rolling over the gaps between the wood planks of the porch. The old woman gazed up at the roof overhang, “One day in mid-summer a thunderstorm struck without warning. High winds, heavy rain and a well-placed bolt of lightning uprooted and toppled that hundred year old maple tree. It hit my front porch like the hammer of Thor crashing on the Earth. My rocking chair was splintered into tiny unrecognizable pieces along with the porch. I had that rocker for the better part of 70 years.” “You’ve had quite a life and those stories are fascinating,” Abby said. “Daughter, those stories are as true as your eyes are blue. Now I’ll have that glass of water.”

A few minutes later Abby walked on to the porch with a tall glass of cold water just as her father walked up the front steps.

“Hi Abby, is that water for me?” “It’s for the old woman sitting…” Abby looked around. “She was here a minute ago. You must have seen her.”

“I just got here. There was no one on the porch or on the sidewalk.”