my chair

slice of life updated

There is a small chair next to one of the windows in my bedroom.  The back cushion is soft and the seat is just firm enough. The chair, covered in an off-white and blue fabric, has a matching footstool. It is older than my children and has travelled with me to four homes. It began it’s life in my bedroom, spent a decade or so in a guest room, and is now back in my room. It is the spot where I curled up and slept when I was close to giving birth to my first born. I sat in that chair watching President Clinton’s first inauguration, mesmerized as Maya Angelou shared “On the Pulse of Morning” with the world. It’s the spot where I retreated to read when my babies napped each afternoon.  I was glued to that chair as O.J. Simpson led the police on a chase along the freeway in Los Angeles. I sat in that chair smocking dresses for my little girls. Lately, the chair has been home to my piles… mail…laundry… knitting projects. But yesterday I cleared all of that away. The chair is bare. Ready for sitting and memory making again.

12 thoughts on “my chair

  1. Remarkable what a beloved object can offer us in terms of memories and sense of self. The details you share draw us in and allow us to view your chair with a kind of admiration and fondness considering how it has been witness to so many vital memories.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is great. I was listening to a podcast the other day that featured a band I like and the singer was talking about writing lyrics around objects like this and how they can take on so many meanings and have so many layers just by being a concrete object around the house. I liked going on the journey of your chair. Very well written. Thanks!

    Liked by 1 person

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