Life is rhythmic, but occasionally I am lonely. My time spent standing still in the corner, waiting, with my arms spread wide leaves me craving the feel of a warm solid body. That body braced against me reassures that knowledge swaying through me that my upholstered back and heavily padded seat provide a state of physical ease. That feel of my intimate’s respiration slowing and their blood pressure lowering fills me with my own solace. I become a consistent whole.
Something in my gentle to-and-fro motion promises an enjoyable experience. As a result I pride myself on my ability to elevate the mood of my confident. In recognition of the enjoyment of these qualities my thin and tatty coverings were stripped and redressed. Although my wood arms still display the evidence of age, I feel returned to health and a normal life. My springs give a short high-pitched creak as my familiar uses their own muscles and tendons in their lower body to oscillate us, but it is a song of freedom from constraint.
The harmonious rocking I provide to my devoted is mirrored back in the rhythmic life they bestow on me. The to-and-fro movement of our lives is woven together in a repetitive decorative design.
By Shari Marshall – 2016
**To read about the rocker from a mother’s perspective try reading That Old Rocker.**