As I have mentioned, today I was blessed with the opportunity to be in a gathering of some beautiful women. The topic came up about clutter and sentiment being attached to objects making it hard to get rid of things that perhaps should be let go. The thing that came to mind for me is the same thing that always comes to mind....the brown chair.
When I was a little girl there was one place where I could always count on finding my Dad in the evenings if I needed him. In our home we had a small living room made up of a rust colored floral couch, a matching rocking chair, and a super soft and cozy brown recliner. In the evenings (when Dad wasn't working nights) anyone could find him sitting in his cozy chair relaxing after a grueling day of hard labor. My dad has been a hard worker since he was a kid. First working on his family's farm, then working for my Grandpa building beautiful homes and other wonderful things, then working in factories, and back to building homes. Whatever it has been that he does, he has always put his all into it. So at the end of the day, it was only natural that he would be exhausted and take a break in his chair. Growing up I never thought about the hard work that he was putting into taking care of his family. I just knew that that is where he would be at the end of the day. There was always something so comforting about knowing he would be right there. (And we also knew that if we heard the sound of the footrest of the recliner going down that someone was in TROUBLE!!!) I have fond memories of my Dad reading bedtime stories to me in that chair. Eventually my parents remodeled the living room, getting new furniture. The only piece that did not go was that Brown chair. Dad had it moved to his bedroom taking the place of my great grandma's rocking chair which was only just moved to another room of the house. I remember when my dad had to have knee surgery and had to be out of work for a while to recover. When that happened I could still count on finding my dad sitting on that brown chair (it was only in a different location). When my bro, sis, or I were sick we were always quarantined to my parents' bedroom where we would lay in their bed or in the brown chair watching our favorite movies and cartoons. There our Mom would nurse us back to health. I always remember wanting to stay home one extra day from school so that I could rest a little longer in that chair.
Eventually, over the years, the chair began to wear down becoming somewhat of an eye sore. I don't know exactly how or when, but the chair was moved once more, but it didn't go too far. Yes, my mom finally was able to get it removed from the house, but only as far as my dad's shop. After many many years, my dad finally got to build something for himself again, the shop of his dreams complete with a storage room (bigger than my bedroom growing up) for my mom to keep her favorite things. Only for some reason I can't imagine that chair being in there for her. I came across it one day, having only slightly forgotten about it. I realized that they were in the process of getting rid of some things and I just couldn't imagine that chair not being in the family. So I rescued it! That brown chair migrated to our home. I placed it in the nursery where Nico was just a baby. Every night until he was old enough for his big boy bed I would rock him and read books to him. It was in that chair where we would say prayers every night. Today it is in that chair that I read to my baby girl, just as my dad had done for my brother and me, and where bedtime prayers are said before Belle's breathing gets even and she closes her eyes for the night.
That brown chair may not be as soft or as cuddly as it used to be. It might have settled into the shape of my dad or now in the shape of me. True, it has seen better days in the way that it looks and I've had to cover the seat with a crocheted afghan blanket from my paternal grandma to disguise the worn bottom. Sure if you put up the foot rest it still rocks and won't stay in place. But that brown chair is way more than just a chair. It is a place of love, prayer, comfort, healing. A peaceful retreat that not only reminds me of my dad, but is a pleasant reminder of my whole childhood and of growing up. It is a symbol of how things may grow old and change over time, while molding to fit perfectly to who one has grown to be. I was a baby being rocked in the brown chair, and now I rock my own babies in the brown chair. One MOM mentioned that sometimes she yearns to go back to the "simpler" life of childhood. That when you are young you don't have any clue how your life is going to be and you don't realize all of the complexities you will face. In a world that is constantly changing and can be scary, I relish the fact that I have somewhere to go that brings me back to the feelings of comfort from my childhood.
While around the brown chair I can feel its magic that can only come from all of the love that it has been exposed to. Every time I sit in its lap I feel I am able to fully take in the special moment with my child which is so important because these moments in our life are so incredibly limited. My babies will not be babies forever so enjoying every second that we can is imperative. I know it will not always be like that, we are human, but I'm blessed to have the brown chair as a reminder that even though all things change over time, with a little care and lots of love, they can still be great and make their magic! Kind of what some of us are like I think. We start out nice and neat, flawless, and we go through many ups and downs in life, sometimes getting thrown through the wringer. We can go about our world at a slow, steady, soothing rock, and then something comes and "rocks the boat" causing us to crash against the walls or flip us backwards. Just as the brown chair, we may be moved around and have to get used to different surroundings, sometimes being left in a place that seems to be dark and lonely. And then out of the blue someone or something comes along and seeing value in you, dusts you off and shines light into the world again giving you a purpose. When finally pulled out of that dark place, that special magic is there to be reignited and shared with others.
Even though this may be an odd metaphor for one's life. It seems to be relevant for me. For now I'm going to continue to enjoy every moment in the brown chair until it is time for it to move on. Although highly unlikely, perhaps one day it will bring fond memories of childhood to my own kids. Maybe they will rock their babies in the brown chair. Maybe another family will benefit from its magic. No matter what happens in the future, for the brown chair, for me, for my family, one thing is for sure; we will grow older, we will change, but we will do our best to continue to make each day the BEST DAY EVER loving, caring, and comforting each other.
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