Skip to main content

Grandma's Rocking Chair by Barbara A. Whittington

I'm recovering from acute bronchitis. All I've done the last few days is think about writing but not actually writing. My time has been filled with lots of Kleenex, coughing, breathing treatments, etc etc etc. Every day I feel a bit better. Come tomorrow I'll be well - I'm counting on it. In the meantime, while I'm not writing, I found this poem among my papers and thought I'd share  - it's a sentiment I wrote for our daughter Jill. Hope you enjoy. As always comments are very welcome. Hugs to all.

Grandma’s Rocking Chair

Grandma’s rocking chair -
passed on to our daughter -
headed for Wisconsin
loaded in a U Haul, nestled
between an antique secretary,
and a refinished dresser -
mirror long gone.

Our three year old triplet
grandchildren, faces pressed
to the window of the van,
wave good bye to me and grandpa
in the driveway, their tears
breaking our hearts.

Our daughter, Jill,
heavy with the child of her new husband,
hums to the children
And soon they are fast asleep.

The rocking will start
while baby is in the womb,
this new grandson of ours,
whose name before
he's even born, is Austin Cole.
He will learn from his mother
How rocking soothes the soul.
Nourishes the spirit.
Links us one to the other
And to generations past and future.
just as we were linked
as children forming the circle
for ring around the rosey.

-the end-
Comments Welcome!

Comments

  1. What a beautiful poem.

    Heal quickly.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Very heartfelt and very visual. I both feel it and see it in my mind.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Love the poem. I hope the rocking chair continues to be passed down, maybe to her daughter or a daughter-in-law. My daughter has the rocking chair I used to rock her and her brother. We bought it through an ad in the paper (remember those, before e--bay and Craigslist?). I hope it rocked many babies before we had it and will continue to do so for a long time.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Dreaded School Pictures

This year when my children brought home their school pictures, I cringed. These kids can leave home looking cherubic, but the minute they pose for that school photographer they are transposed into unrecognizable beings. My middle daughter brought home pictures bearing her name and room number that couldn't have been my offspring. Nor a distant relative.
I had worked for hours on this child. Her hair was parted in the middle and drawn into a cute little ponytail over each ear. Even though she is at an awkward age, she looked adorable when she went out that door. Her missing front teeth only added to her charm. The kid in the picture has her mouth open wide displaying ugly dark gaps. Her one visible ponytail is lopsided, her part is uneven, and her bangs look like they were cut with pinking shears. I know this isn't my child because I always give my children a good haircut before they have their pictures taken. The only thing vaguely familiar is the sweater the child has on. My dau…

Building a story vs building a house

My latest book!



Dear Writer: 
Writing a story is somewhat similar to building a house. Or not!
Remember this:
when we give a piece of our story to someone to read - we expect them to see the whole.
It's like building a house and offering a single piece of lumber to another builder. “Here, see the house I'm building.” SOME CAN SEE IT AND SOME CAN’T. Here's the thing: MOST CAN'T.
This step is as necessary to me as breathing. 
I need to give you single boards as I create them. AND I expect you to be a visionary and say, “Why yes. I see.”  
I need you to see how special the piece of lumber is that I'm using and to see that eventually I'll add more pieces to make the whole. 
Choose people to read your work who like the kind of stories you write. 
There are as many kinds of stories as there are houses to live in. If you give a brick ranch to someone who only appreciates a cape cod then he'll have a hard time fitting himself into what you are offering.
Don’t rebu…

Meet Southern writer, Barbara Whittington, Author of Missing: Sweet Baby James by writer Elizabeth Vollstadt

Elizabeth says, "Reading and writing have been part of my life since I was a child. I've published several short stories in magazines, four non-fiction books, and a collection of stories called Young Patriots: Inspiring Stories of the American Revolution. My latest book is Pairs at Nationals, a sequel to Pairs on Ice. After Jamie and Matt's coach is injured, they travel to another rink to train and find hostility and pranks. Jamie wonders if it's worth the struggle."


So begins the interview:
I’ve never done an author interview before, but I thought I’d start with my friend Barbara Whittington, who just released her second novel,Missing: Sweet Baby James.  Barbara and I met many years ago when we both lived in the Cleveland, Ohio, suburbs and joined the same writing group.  We bonded over our love of writing, and that shared interest led to a true friendship. 
Barbara, who grew up in small-town West Virginia, began her writing career with short stories, many of whic…