The other day, in the midst of swirling teenage angst and drama, I was sitting in a chair. The chair is in Prima’s room, and belonged to my grandmother. It’s tucked away in a corner on purpose. Prima uses it as a hide-away spot. As I sat, I felt myself withdrawing further from the conflict and pondering the chair. It had a wild blue and white print on it, one that I remember from my grandmother’s bedroom growing up. Now that the chair belonged to my teenager, it gets hard use and had deteriorated. I felt the tug at my heartstrings as I was reminded of Grandma’s deteriorating condition, much like the chair.
I poked my finger through the large holes and I saw something…. a blue fabric, peaking out from underneath the printed fabric with the holes.
My grandmother would be the type to have a perfectly good chair recovered. I pondered this as I poked my finger through the hole. More focused now I jumped up. I pulled the cushions off and saw the outlines of a well-made slip cover. I undressed the chair, unzipping the cushions as if opening a present. I felt the building excitement as I discovered the subtle blue printed fabric underneath, in perfect condition.
The rush of happiness at this unexpected surprise brought tears to my eyes. How is it that I have had this chair for five years and never noticed? It is a much better fit for the room.
I am grateful for the gift she has given me, that even now in her condition, she can bring me such joy. How amazing is that?
© copyright 2017 Mariam d’Eustachio at Simply Turquoise.
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