Deborah Brink
The Rocking Chair for Carolyn You say it’s one of your best memories, when your first boy couldn’t sleep for days, when it took medicine 48 hours to ease the pain in a child’s ear. His crying would stop only against a warm body. You had been holding Chris for two days, rocking him, the worn velvet under you, his hot ear against your heart beating, the sun rising dimly as tears wetted your face. You hadn’t slept for a long time when the door opened and your neighbor, your mother-in-law, walked into the room. She had seen the light in the house and thought you might need to sleep. She took the boy into her arms so gently that he hardly felt the change of comfort. You go, she motioned, until tears flowed from cheek to pillow as you fell asleep in the dark room feeling no human being could love you more than this.
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