The Old Rocking Chair

This weekend I had the opportunity to help my parents move from what was basically my childhood home to their new home.  Many thoughts flowed through me as I helped monitor the movers, clean the bathrooms, and sweep the floors.  As I drove away from our home on Wolf Run Ct. I felt a little sad, more for the memories that the house held than the actual house itself.

Memories of first kisses, great parties, hot tubbing, laser tagging, sign language, fire escape ladders, school dance pictures, graduations, weddings, Dixie, swim team, babysitting, and so, so much more.  Such incredible memories that I will never forget.

As we drove up to their new house in Wyoming, Ohio I felt the sadness creep back in.  This place was so foreign to me nothing was familiar, there would be no room in this house that was ‘mine’, I hardly knew how I would find my way back when I would come to visit next.  It was sort of my ‘grown-up wake-up call’, saying “Hey Kali!  Your on your own now!”, I felt almost empty as I cleaned the new house and help bring in the boxes.

During my cleaning frenzy, I descended the stairs to go clean the bathroom in the basement, I stopped dead in my tracks as I reached the bottom stair, there in the center of the very empty basement was the old rocking chair.  The same chair that my mom and dad rocked each of their children in, the same chair that had been with us at every house we had lived in, seen and unseen, the same chair that told me its not the house that makes the memories its the people that are in your lives that make the memories, the ones that you love, the ones much like this old rocking chair that will always be there, seen and unseen.

I left that house knowing that because the ones I loved lived there, I would always find my way back, there will always be a place for me, and that there will be many more great memories to come.



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