The Rocker
This rocker belonged to my grandmother. When my mother turned 16 years old she ask her mother if she could go out. Since my mother was grounded at the time, my grandmother said no. My mother sat in this rocker and carved her initials in the top right arm of the chair, a defiant act. Not sure what her punishment was for that or even why she was grounded in the first place.
When we were going through the house to start clearing out, we ran across this rocker, dusty with no seat in it, covered with cobwebs, forgotten. I ask if I could have it. I brought it home and it sat in my garage for years. After my mother died I decided to have it refinished. I instructed the refinisher to be sure he DID NOT disturb the initials that had been carved into it. It was the initials that I wanted most to keep.
My mother was something of a spitfire. I'm glad I heard this story, wish I knew the rest of it.
