In my family room is an antique wicker rocking chair. It’s been in this particular spot for almost 50 years…before that, it was in my Grandparents home in Hastings…

I love this chair. It has so many wonderful memories attached to it…

My Grandfather always retired to it in the evenings, after dinner, to smoke his pipe…I always got to sit on his lap and we would play a game where I would touch his mustache, and he would try to bite (gently, of course) my finger…

Both my Grandparents died in 1980…my Grandfather was lost after my Grandmother died, and I believe on the day she died, he gave up living…

I miss them both terribly…

To this day, the chair still rocks in the evening…not every evening, but every once in a while…and it doesn’t rock as though there is someone sitting in it rocking…but, very gently…softly…as though someone has just gotten up from it…

The first time I saw it, it scared the hell out of me…but, I soon realized nothing was going to hurt me.

Now, I simply find comfort in it…and sometimes, if I close my eyes, I can still smell his pipe tobacco….