As I had mentioned, a year had passed since my grandmother had disappeared. I knew that today was going to be especially hard. Since today was the exact day that she had disappeared. Swinging my feet out of bed, they hit the cold wood floor. Jerking them back up in response, I groggily searched with the tip of my toes until they touch the top parts of my slippers. Grumbling to myself, I slid out of bed and headed across the room to my door. Grandma’s rocking chair, the one she always sat in, stood stationery in the corner. My parents had insisted that I take the chair, in remembrance of my grandmother. I refuse to have anything to do with it, so there it stood.   Reaching the door, I opened it and headed down the stairs to the bathroom. My dad was already up. Drinking his morning coffee and reading the newspaper. This was his daily routine, before heading to work. Looking up from his paper, he smiled as I slipped into the dinning that led to the bathroom.

Having used the bathroom, I went back up the stairs to my room. As I neared the door, a strange familiar sound reached my ears. Opening the door cautiously, I peered around the corner and saw Grandma’s chair rocking back and forth. Screaming, I tore down the stairs, as my father ran up them. Bumping into me, I bounced back, my butt hitting the top of the step with a thud. Laughing he asked, “Are you okay?”

I shook my head no.

Looking me straight in the face he asked, “Alex, what is wrong?”,

“Grandma’s chair is moving,” I replied.

“Well rocking chairs have the tendency to do that,”

“Not on their own,” I replied.

“It’s okay Alex,” he laughed. “It was probably bumped by the dog or cat. Why don’t you go back to bed. I’m sure it’s done rocking by now.”

“Okay,” I muttered, turning around and heading back up the stairs. Caustically opening the door, I peeked into the room. The chair had stopped. Going back over to my bed, I slipped under the covers and fell back to sleep.