Rocking

File this post under “Memories I Love.”

I read this article on rocking in the New York Times this morning. As I was reading, Yessa crawled up to lie against my back, snuggled in next to me to talk about our day, and I asked her if she remembered how she would go to sleep as a child.

Some of us have rocked a baby to sleep, and sometimes ourselves in the process. Most babies seem to love that rhythmic movement; sometimes jouncy, sometimes smooth, but always back-and-forth, back-and-forth, back-and-forth.

Yessa had her own preferred style.

As she aged, when she was ready to sleep, or if she’d had an emotional upheaval of some sort, we’d settle into her bed, back to back.

I’d ask, “Do you want me to rock you?” She would nod, and I would begin.

A slight roll, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Comforting and connecting for both of us.

After she slept, if I was still awake, I would acrobatically manage to roll away, holding her at whatever angle she’d been at, and wedge a pillow against her back as my surrogate. Then I’d listen to her breathe for a moment and creep away.

Back-and-forth, back-and-forth, back-and-forth.

This morning I asked if I could rock her in the style of old, and the warmth of her strong back against mine, this child who is taller than me, it was soothing once again.

Back-and-forth, back-and-forth, back-and-forth.