A pair of rockers sat to the side of the kitchen in the old farm house.
They were similiar but not exactly the same, one had more padding, one had more oak slats, both showed signs of wear. One was his, the other his wife's, both enjoyed the rocking of children after a long day, the pleasant peace and quiet, after all twelve kids were asleep.
Most times more children were in the house than just theirs, the grands, neighbors and children of friends who needed a good meal and a clean bed. The homeplace was where anyone could be safe and well fed and loved. Love the biggest and best hug of all.
Many a child, often two at a time, would sit on his knees and rocked until the safety of sleep enveloped them. Up the stairs, he would carry them and lay them onto a clean bed. She would close up the kitchen, the old wood stove and think of the next day's meals, and the people. Then she would trod up the narrow stairs from the kitchen to their room, often to find a child or two already there.
Homemade quilts covered the beds. No fancy spreads but bursts of color, for in a family like this nothing is wasted.
Now the rockers are empty in the dark quiet kitchen, never again to be rocked by the couple. He went on to be with the Lord that night, and now he has a brand new rocker, with lots of kids to rock.
The rockers are loved and cared for by younger folks now. I never see them that I don't think of the two who rocked so well at the home place for many years. The house still stands, the kitchen still large but now it has running water and tiled floors. But no rockers, nowhere .....