Rocking chairs and strokes: the solidity of Texan family

rocking chair

My great-grandfather, Zone, the Texan communist carpenter and lothario, made this rocking chair a hundred years ago, give or take. It was good to sit in something so solid (and so tailored to short people) while visiting my mom for her birthday over the weekend.

I planned the trip several months back. And then, a few weeks ago, my mom had a stroke. She did not allow my stepdad to tell me immediately and wouldn’t want me to dwell on the details, so I’ll just say that she’s recovered with characteristic speed and finesse — by dint of sheer will, as her people do. When caregivers were dispatched by the hospital to check on her, they couldn’t believe she was the one they were coming to see.

I could. It was hard to leave when the time was up, and yet it seems impossible that there would ever come a day when my mother would cease to exist in this world.

Photo by Max, of course.


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