One More Journey, story by Nancy Lou Henderson at Spillwords.com

One More Journey

One More Journey

written by: Nancy Lou Henderson

@nlhende49

 

Did that fire happen, or am I dreaming? Now I need to check myself out. My back feels solid and straight, both of my arms feel attached, my seat not burned, all four legs are still there, but I only feel one foot. I feel blistered and scorched on one side, but most importantly, I need my other foot. Without two feet, I am useless. Maybe, I am at the end of my journey, but what a good rocking time I have had.
My journey started in a barn, which is where my creator built me. You know what? My creator hand-carved the wooden spooled slats that make up my back and legs, and then he carefully attached them to my seat, headrest, and feet. As my creator worked on me, he talked about how happy his gift would make his wife.
Did I tell you yet, how unique my feet are? My two feet have two legs attached to each of them. These feet are called rockers and have everything to do with my name. I am a loved rocking chair, and I would not want to be anything else. You will understand why as you read my story.
After my creator finished making me, I was taken inside his home and had a special place beside the fireplace. Within moments of my placement, I met my creator’s wife. Wow! She was happy! She sat down on my seat, then rocked back and forth, rubbing her hands on my arms and telling my creator how much she loved me. I tried my best to hug her back, but I could not hug her, although my armrests bend slightly towards my seat.
Soon while sitting by the fireplace, I learned that my creator’s name is Jake, and his wife’s name is Elsa. Jake and Elsa took turns sitting in my seat and rocking. Sometimes, Elsa would rub me with what she called a soft cloth with orange oil. Dang, that stuff smelled good, and the rubbing was terrific!
One day, I heard a terrible noise in the house. Elsa came into my room carrying something in her arms, and the noise got louder and louder. Then as she sat down on my seat, rocking while singing, “Hush, little baby, don’t you cry,” the noise stopped. Oh, my goodness! I was so rocking happy because there for a moment; I thought the loud noise would crack my wood. Jake and Elsa would spend a lot of time rocking and singing in my chair with the baby in their arms. They called the baby Justina. Sometimes, I would hear the baby cooing, which, of course, endeared the tiny being to my slatted covered heart.
As time passed, Justina began to crawl, then walk, and to my surprise, one day, she tried to climb into my seat. I tried to help by rocking forward, but she was too small, but then Elsa set Justina into my curved arms. As Justina rocked, my rockers moved smoothly back and forth. It is funny how somebody who had nearly cracked my wood with her shrieks was now the glue that held me together.
The years went by, and, sure enough, there would be many more shrieking babies who would become calmed by my rocking feet as Jake and Elsa sang. Those babies loved me, and I loved them. They nearly rocked my rockers off, and sometimes I thought they would rock me plumb over, spilling them onto the floor, but soon each grew up and left my home. Periodically, Jake and Elsa would sit on my seat and slowly rock, then sometimes the grown babies would visit and rock too, but it was not the same, and I missed my rowdy rockers.
One day, Jake picked me up then carried me to the barn. My mind went rocking trying to figure out what was going on. Jake placed me on a table then began scratching me with some stiff cloth. I am reasonably sure that Jake did not miss one small crevice of my body. Not sure why I deserved such treatment, but soon after Jake finished scratching me, he rubbed me down all over with a soft cloth, then again with a cloth dipped in some dark liquid. Once Jake finished, he left the barn leaving me all alone. The next day, Jake returned and rubbed me with another soft cloth dipped in the marvelous orange oil, then carried me back into the house. Once again, I sat in my place by the fireplace, feeling refreshed and renewed.
Soon Justina came for a visit and brought surprises for me with her. She laid a folded, beautiful big cloth, called an afghan, across my arm, but that was not the best surprise she had for me. Elsa entered the room with a shrieking baby in her arms then handed the baby to Justina. Justina sat down on my seat then began singing, “Hush, little baby, don’t you cry,” as she rocked back and forth. Without being told, I knew my first baby now had a baby of her own, and I was overwhelmed with love for them both.
Since it was a cold evening, Jake fueled the fire with some big logs. After a few hours, Justina got up from my seat, excused herself, and took the sleeping baby to another room. Soon, Jake and Elsa turned off the lights and left the room too. I felt so content and warm as the logs burned, and the flames flickered in the fireplace. Suddenly, I noticed that the afghan had slipped off my arm and laid on the floor near the fire, then the fire popped, sending embers flying onto the afghan. There was nothing that I could do as the blanket began to flame and smoke began filling the room.
Things got pretty confusing after that, and I felt my foot get hot, then my side felt hot too. I heard Jake screaming for Elsa, Justina, and the precious baby to get out of the house. Then I heard loud noises as something cool was raining down on me, and the room went dark.
Now, the night has turned into daylight, and here I sit, taking inventory of my parts, feeling useless but thankful for the rocking I have done. Wait, Jake’s strong hands are picking me up, and he is talking to me, saying, “Don’t worry, my rocking friend. I promise you; I will make you a new foot, and you will rock again.”
Jake did restore me as he promised, and my new journey has begun. I must go now because one of the rowdy rockers is on board, and we are rocking wildly back and forth.

 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

Inanimate objects are made of energy, just like we are, and if they could talk, what stories they could tell.

Nancy Lou Henderson

Nancy Lou Henderson

I was born in Hico, Texas, in 1949 to James and Mary Blakley. In 1968 at the age of eighteen, I married my soulmate, Frank Henderson, in a little Methodist Church in Van Vleck, Texas. Being a firm believer in that anyone can do whatever they set their mind to do, I have taken on many jobs during my life. I have worked in a factory on an assembly line, driven an eighty passenger school bus, owned a Florist Shop, worked as a receptionist in a Doctor's office, and became a certified Pharmacy Technician at the age of fifty. Hobbies include sewing, knitting, crocheting, gardening, quilting, tatting, but I also do exciting things like plumbing, mowing, weed-eating, roofing, and anything else that might come my way. After twenty-nine years of marriage in 1997, I became a widow and will be a forever widow. Frank will always own my heart, and I will remain Frank's wife for eternity. Just for fun and because of loving humor, I also write Widow's Blogs, laughing at myself and relaying to you instructions of what not to do as a widow. Sometimes, I write blogs about my thoughts on all kinds of things.
Nancy Lou Henderson

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