held.
The glider in its prime, September 2015 I sat in the glider in the middle of the living room, instantly feeling calmed and held by the soft grey cushions, the gentle rocking back and forth. How many nights had I rocked in this chair, holding my infant to feed her, to shush her, to calm her back to sleep? How many times had I leaned my head back and dozed, never too deeply for the awareness of the baby in my arms? How many times had my husband climbed the stairs to the third floor of our apartment that hot September, taking on the night feedings so I could rest, sitting in the glider in his own exhaustion, wonder, and awe at the new life in his arms? The infant is now nearly 3 years old, is out of diapers, has her own imagination and opinions on things. Just yesterday she was spellbound by the tadpoles in the lake, imploring them to swim into her little cupped hands, then releasing them immediately "so that they can find their mommy and daddy." Today she saw a dead bi...