My Boy’s Rocker

By Bill Shephard

Through my mind’s eyes, I see them both, just as they were more than fifty years ago! The little chair was new; the little boy was in his early teen years. When the boy was not in school or church, the two were usually together. The boy in his little rocker, rocking to and fro while sitting in front of the TV.

Bill Shepard

The boy’s older brother and sister were away at college. Until the two had gone away to college, the three had been as close as “three peas in a pod.” Now, the house seemed so empty and lonely and that was especially true on weekends when there was no school to take up part of the day.
We had moved into a fairly new neighborhood and there were not many children living nearby, so the boy spent many hours alone, he and his little chair and the TV.

I would often see him in that position and my heart would hurt for him. It was at those times that I would think of my own childhood years, when I was free to enjoy the open fields and pasture lands and be surrounded with dozens of boys and girls from the village. At those times, I would wish I could gather him up in my arms and go running back in time. That same time that changes little boys into grown men and refuses to allow them passage back.

Time came when he outgrew his little rocker and like his brother and sister, he packed his belongings and headed off to college and beyond. Long after he left and often, I would see the little rocker sitting in the den alone and at times, I would imagine seeing the little boy sitting in it and rocking to and fro.

One day I picked up my pen and began writing. Now you know the story behind the poem-

My Boy’s Rocker
The tiny child rocker is worn and old,
And it sits in a corner alone,
But there was a time, it was shiny and new,
And a little boy claimed it his own.

The rocker is scarred and there’s much sign of wear,
But it has every right to be,
For a little boy traveled, as he sat in that chair,
Over land, through the air, and on sea.

I can see him now, as he sat in his chair,
Rocking quietly before the TV,
Not a care in the world, as he rocks to and fro,
In his favorite spot, you see.

Hour after hour, he’d rock to and fro,
Alone with his thoughts and his chair,
And I fancy at times, l can see him yet,
And I brush from my cheek a tear.

Boys grow tall and change with the years,
For time transforms them to men,
But the little brown rocker remains the same,
And now sits alone in the den.

It seems so alone and alive sitting there,
And if things have a mind to employ,
I’m sure the little rocker must often wonder,
What happened to the tousled hair boy?

So the rocker and I share the same memory,
As we sit in the big house alone,
For we both have thoughts of days gone by,
The days before our boy left home.

(Dad–February 18, 1971)

Bill Shepard

Mr. Shepard is a native of Darlington, S.C., and a current resident of Piedmont, S.C. He is the author of “Mill Town Boy” and “Bruised”. He has been sharing his tales of growing up in Darlington for decades, and we are delighted to share them each week.

His mailing address for cards and letters is: Bill Shepard 324 Sunny Lane, Piedmont, S.C. 29673.

Author: Stephan Drew

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