Rocking back and forth for most people brings to mind gentle surroundings, like rocking a baby to sleep. Or maybe it’s the thought of grandpa rocking on the porch as he puffs on his pipe. Too some it may be grandma knitting as she rocks quietly by the fire place. The Norman Rockwell pictures start to run across our minds like a spring day bringing us a warm smile.
Yeah, ain’t that nice!
To others rocking is what is done when you have lost a friend in a way that’s senseless. Or too others the shocking sounds of war can make men proud in parades, shake and rock to their own beat. To some they are matching a hidden rhythm only known by their wounded spirit. Some rock as if it were rowing themselves toward shores far away. The shores these sailors of the mind seek, as they try not to ponder the world uncaring around them, are seldom found. The sand bars and seaweed of despair take most of these seafarer’s long before they reach dry land.
So those of you with simple pasts and pleasant memories of kinder days hug your selves with delight that you know not what rocks the cradles of others.

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