Not just a chair

That photo at right? It’s just a chair, right? Kinda. On other hand, there aren’t many things in my life that don’t have some sort of story, often a personal one. That chair is no different.

My mother-in-law recently downsized to a much smaller place, and no longer had a use for a lot of what she had, including some furniture. Her kids (my in-laws) organised to distribute that excess stuff among her grandkids, and some of us "oldies" took things, too. I was given the side chair and cushion in the photo.

My practical use for the chair is that it’s lightweight, which makes it ideal to move when I have several people around at once, like when I have the family around for dinner. I planned to use it to replace a less comfortable chair that I planned to put elsewhere. That was the practical reason—but there was another one.

My mother-in-law bought the chair one day when her late daughter Carolyn was visiting. So, that chair makes me remember my mother-in-law’s old place and the good times there with family (including Nigel), as well as my much-missed sister-in-law. As a rule, I’m not particularly sentimental about things, however, there are exceptions, and that chair’s definitely one.

In the photo above, the chair is in the spot the to-be-replaced chair had been occupying, but the new chair blocked my line of sight from my usual chair to the stacker door Leo gets let out of, and that meant if he was asking to go outside, I wouldn’t be able to see him. I un-replaced the original chair and put it back where it had been, then put the new one in the TV area of the living space. I realise that this explanation doesn't make a lot of sense, but there will eventually be photos once I get into the decorating stage of my “Operation Re-invent My House” project.

Nearly everything I do follows a lot of thought (some might say too much thinking…), but this wasn’t one of those times. While someone else in the family would’ve taken that chair, I actually wanted it for it’s usefulness, sure, but especially for the memories around it. In other words, the chair whent to a good home.

There aren’t many things in my life that don’t have some sort of story, often a personal one. That chair is no different. Of course.

The cushion came with the chair, and in real life the reddish colour it’s more of a vibrant electric deep red/maroon sort of colour. My mother-in-law frequently changed such cushions, and I almost never do, mainly because I never know what I want. I think that, in real life, that cushion goes well with the chair.