Your Grandmother’s chair.
You’ve never once had to shift or move to find the spot just right; memories have a way of making old chairs comfortable before you’ve even bent your knees to sit.
And it’s funny about the lullabies. They are sweeter, softer, in her rocker than in any other spot.
Grandma.
You smile.
The beautiful baby girl who shares her name.
Your little Lulu.
