My Rocker

I tried several different ways to photograph the first prayer shawl I made. Spreading it out on the floor didn't work. Hanging it on a hanger seemed too sterile. Laying it out on the bed got it lost on the pattern of the bedspread. Then I tried arranging it on my rocking chair. It not only felt right, it displayed the shawl to its best advantage for a picture. So the rocker became the display stand for taking pictures of the shawls.

I've had this rocker since I was 15. I remember when we went to pick it out at the unpainted furniture shop on Route 1 in Westport. I don't remember if I paid for it out of my babysitting money, or if my parents bought it for me. Either way, it sat in my room for many months before I finished it.

Finally, I picked out a stain for it and then began sanding. It's not the most intricate piece of furniture, but the turned pieces took some time to get to the smoothness that felt right. Then I stained it and sealed it.

We had another wooden rocking chair in the house. It had been made for my great-grandparents. We know this because it was signed and dated on the underside of the seat. I decided I wanted to do the same for mine, so at some point in the process I took the wood burner and put my name and the month I finished it on the underside of its seat.

The rocker has been in my home ever since, with the exception of the years I was away at college and graduate school. I've sat in it to read, crochet, pray, look out the window, and now knit, too. The plaid cushion is a relatively recent addition from a day trip I took with my friend Rees about 10 years ago. Most of the time it also has hanging over the back a prayer shawl given to me by my friend Elizabeth, a shawl/lap rug I crocheted, and a red and black alpaca wool poncho from Ecuador. And right now, my craft tote is sitting on it with the completed shawls waiting to go to church next weekend and the shawls I'm currently working on.

In our family we have an expression, "It's a knew-me." It refers to something that has been around for what seems like forever. Sometimes it's something downright ugly, like painting that hung in my grandparents' home for years. Sometimes it's beautiful, like the silver coffee and tea service that belonged to my grandmother's cousin that Mom occasionally used to serve us tea when we came home from grade school. And sometimes it's something like my chair. All of them are familiar, filled with memories, and comforting.

What are the knew-me's in your life?