Saturday, May 29, 2010
The blue chair.
I am not a materialistic person. I don't like "stuff", to a rather eccentric extreme. So when I started making decisions concerning what of my "stuff" would come with me to my new home next month I didn't think of anything except getting rid of more "stuff". A project like that usually makes me happy. I see empty spaces and smile.
That was until today.
As we discussed what furniture I would take with me, and which would go with my brothers family, and which needed to be gotten rid of my blue chair came under scrutiny. It's a "recliner" in the loosest sense of the word since it doesn't actually recline. Or, should the unthinking victim actually attempt to recline, they find themselves reclined to a rather unnatural extreme and unable to unrecline themselves. It's amusing to watch.
But the blue chair was very comfortable for plain old sitting.
But that's not why I cried after it left.
I can remember, picture in my mind, as if it happened just moments ago my sweet, sturdy, beautiful Bell climbing into that chair, far too big for her and sitting, chubby legs askew. I've got pictures of her in just that spot.
I remember taking pictures of Baby and Toddles, my first duo placement, as they sat together in that chair.
And how well I remember Little One sitting in that chair, laying in that chair, eating her favorite banana in that chair.
I remember Sniffles who seemed to fall asleep lying out across the chair.
I looked at the empty lines the frame left on the floor after the man had carried away such a treasure, and I just cried. I miss those babies, but more than anything else in this world I miss my Bell. I'd have given everything I have for that child, and now her chair is gone.
I didn't think it was important. And in truth, it probably isn't. It is still just a chair, the memories are still mine. But if I had it to do over again... I would just crowd my future living room with my blue chair. And be happy.