the noisy chair

rocking. tocking. squeaking. singing. her eyes almost closed. she fights it til it's done. the ten dollar chair holds something worth far greater. it's old pretend velvet, 70's pale blue, but so perfect for her room that I could not resist. the tocking and squeaking, she doesn't seem to mind. it's the rhythm of sleep. her familiar place. snuggled up so close I'm hot and sweating but unwilling to lay her down. her eyes flutter, and she smiles. she knows she's got me. this chair has heard tears and prayers and songs and laughter. the tocking and squeaking are the beats of my heart. ongoing. almost imperceptible. yet always there. rocking. singing. squeaking. tocking. momma's here. sleep tight.